


Into the Fire

by seikaitsukimizu



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Non-con References, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-18
Updated: 2011-09-18
Packaged: 2017-10-23 20:46:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 51,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seikaitsukimizu/pseuds/seikaitsukimizu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jump down the rabbit hole, or go back to the wizard?</p><p>“Trust me Captain Lorne,” Carter says quietly as I’m debating, “it is worth it. There’s…absolutely nothing like this program.” I can hear the smile in her voice.</p><p>“There are many wonders unseen by this world through the chappa’ai,” Teal’c adds. “It would be an honor if you would help us discover them.”</p><p>I continue to stare at the non-disclosure agreement. Finally, I pick up the pen and the first packet of forms.</p><p>I always did prefer Alice over Dorothy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Into the Fire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/251704) by [chubbypup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chubbypup/pseuds/chubbypup). 



> [ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/251704)   
> 
> 
>   
> 
> 
> Art by [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/chubbypup/profile)[**chubbypup**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/chubbypup/)

_“Tell us of your most cherished memory, beloved.”_

Beloved? Why does that ring a warning bell? Reminds me of something. Something important. I can’t concentrate because my damned chest hurts. Not badly, more like when a sleeping foot comes awake, all pins and needles and disconnect. I feel that, except all over my body. It’s making my mind all jumbled. God damned McKay and his…his…something.

 _“Come, you can tell us.”_

Who’s ‘us’? And why does that voice sound so…? Focus, Lorne. Focus. Cherished memory. Well, that time with the Mizuki twins. I was 17, and everyone always assumes it was two girls. Actually, they were identical twins, but of different genders. It was the third of July, a nice warm Berkeley summer. They wanted to talk after class. And then the stars came out and a concert was happening in the park and…

 _“Damnit! Shut that off. And Colonel, stop dicking around!”_

The voice jars me. It’s not enticing or feminine. Definitely a man, a sarcastic one at that. Sirens start flashing in my mind’s eye. Sirens like those under a mountain, constantly going off. A red flashing light against cement walls… Wait…

 _“We don’t need your life’s story. And we definitely don’t need the itinerary of your sex life. Christ…”_

A razor slices across my brain, and I wince. The SGC. Atlantis. Jack O’Neill. Fuck. Fuck! Where the hell am I? And where the hell is my tea-

 _“Let’s start over.”_

The pain vanishes instantly, and I grasp at the coherent memories, try to hold onto something. Anything. It all slips from my fingers and the pins and needles return to the forefront of my mind. But I know. I know now they’re interrogating me. Doing…doing something. I just have to fight it. I have to focus. Stay focused.

Focused.

Focused…

 _“Focus.”_

Yes, focus.

 _“Focus, my beloved.”_

It’s almost a lovely voice, if it weren’t for that reverb.

 _“Focus on your recruitment.”_

My recruitment? My recruitment in…oh. Ohhh. Stargate Command. That’s classified. I really shouldn’t.

 _“You can tell us, my love. Share with us your history. Your battles. Share your victories, and share your secrets. I promise, I won’t tell a soul.”_

Well, I was raised to believe a lady keeps her promises.

  


* * *

NORAD isn’t nearly as impressive as I imagined. I mean, yeah, it’s a facility under a mountain and the security is intimidating. But it’s all gray walls, exposed piping, and alarm lights. A shit ton of them. Do they really need one every three yards? It’s not like we’re firing missiles or undergoing aerospace disasters that often. Seems like a waste of resources.

I tug at my sleeve, straightening it out as I wait in the drab conference room the two MPs left me in. There’s a couch, a small table, and two chairs. The couch looks very inviting, but I’m sticking with the ass-numbing wooden chair. I’m dressed to the nines, as my mom would say. My CO received orders to ship me out here for an interview. Interview for what, I’m not sure, but I’m good at following orders. Had just enough time to get my dress uniform pressed before coming in this morning.

That was about three hours ago, and I’m still waiting for whoever it is that summoned me. My degrees are in Fine Arts and Geology. “And Engineering,” I mutter to myself. Geophysical Engineering, to be exact. I just received a Master’s in that less than a year ago. Mom had been proud. Dad too, though he kept asking what digging in the dirt had to do with earning my wings.

I’d barely finished flight training when the call came to trap me in this tiny, aesthetically displeasing room. Maybe they want me to make sure the base is still structurally sound. I feel myself frowning at the thought. I mostly joined to fly. Not for the usual reasons I’ve heard from others, either. No, when I’m up there, taking in the sky, cloud formations, even the mass of land below, my chest physically aches. I grew up an artist, and I yearn to capture that moment of perfect artistic clarity in my own work.

I have a dozen half-finished sketches at home. Nothing’s come close to the truth of that reality.

Which makes sitting here surrounded by stone walls ever the more frustrating. With a grunt and slap of my hands on the table I stand up. My pants will just have to be wrinkled because this is ridiculous. Three hours and my ass actually is numb. Before I can ask the guard about stretching my legs there’s a quiet beep and the door opens, admitting two people.

The first person, a woman taller than me with blond hair and evaluating eyes, gives me a brief disarming smile. She’s dressed in the standard blue BDUs of the Force, though I notice a distinct lack of NORAD’s insignia. In her hands are a few folders, and as she sets them down I catch my name printed on the top one’s label.

The man behind her practically takes up the doorway. He seems to be made of muscles and his dark skin seems to emphasize the gold emblem on his forehead. I don’t recognize the mark, but I’ve seen stranger things cruising the Haight and San Fran. He has absolutely no hair, and is wearing a t-shirt with army BDUs. Probably the only ones in his size, I guess, since he must be nearly seven feet tall.

Either way, I salute them both, and the woman sits down without acknowledging it. “Captain Lorne, sorry about the delay. There’s been…” She waves her hand circularly, then shakes her head. “Well, my apologies.”

I offer her my smile. I have a couple, but the one I’m using now is the one my mom affectionately calls ‘The Charmer.’ I take my seat again and smooth the front of my jacket. “I understand,” I spot the golden oak leaf on her collar, “sir.” She blinks, almost as if she’s surprised at me treating her as a superior officer.

She looks down and flips open my folder. When her attention is on me again, the disorder has melted away, leaving behind someone collected and calm. “To begin, I’m Ca—Major Samantha Carter, and this is my associate, Teal’c.”

The man sitting rigidly on the couch offers me a silent nod. I nod back, keeping track of him with the corner of my eye. Civilian consultant, perhaps? Certainly not like any civilian I’ve ever met.

She folds her hands together on top of my folder. “Your record is impressive. Graduated third in your class, very high marks on your flight training, and,” she flips the corner of one sheet up, an eyebrow raising, “two gallery shows at which you were the artist du jour.”

I continue to smile. I’m not ashamed of my talent. Hell, it’s the reason I first got laid. “Thank you, sir.”

“It’s your Masters we’re most interested in.” She leans forward a bit. “We’re in need of geological experts. We’re looking for specific mineral deposits and, when found, someone to help execute swift extraction procedures.”

So NORAD’s into the mining business. Didn’t see that coming. “When will I be assigned?”

She actually looks away from me, silently communing with Teal’c. When she turns her head again, she doesn’t quite meet my eyes. “This is an assignment you’ll have to accept, along with the top secret non-disclosure agreements.” She takes a deep breath. “We’ll also need to conduct an…unofficial background check.”

It’s my turn to raise an eyebrow. “Unofficial, sir?”

“Indeed,” says the dark giant. “We have an inquiry of a personal nature that Major Carter is unable to ask.”

What the hell is he…no. Ah shit no. He can’t…they can’t be serious!

Carter, still not meeting my eyes, says, “Please answer truthfully.” She looks directly at me for a moment. “I can promise that this is off the record. There will be no mention of this outside this room.”

They wouldn’t actually have the balls to-

“Are you a homosexual, Captain Evan Lorne?”

I feel my neck snap to stare at Teal’c. Fortunately, I’m not one of those whose mouths drop open in disbelief, but I’m told my ears twitch and my eyes widen to saucer-like proportions. Which means I’m caught fully in Teal’c’s hardened stare. There’s something…unearthly about it. Not as if he can see my soul, more like a compulsion to tell the truth because if I don’t, something unspeakable will happen. Most likely involving my spine.

Closing my hands into fists on my knees, I take a deep breath through my nose. “I tend to think of myself as a Five on the Kinsey scale.” I say steadily, without a flinch or a hint of fear in my tone. To show that I trust them or because I have something to prove—I’m not sure which—I continue with, “And I prefer the term bisexual. It’s slightly more accurate.”

Teal’c doesn’t react, though I hear a sharp intake of breath from Carter. The stare-down continues another thirty seconds before he nods almost imperceptibly. My shoulders shake just once as I exhale, the tension escaping me. As I turn my attention back to Carter, I catch a relieved grin.

“Thank you for your honesty.” She makes a note in the folder. The paranoid part of me feels my stomach clench, but there’s something about her, about them, that’s telling that part of my mind to just ignore the feeling.

“Permission to speak freely?”

She does smile now, relaxed. “You wanted to know why we needed that information.” It’s not a question, so I just nod. “You’ll find out if you agree to join our program.” She pulls out the folder beneath mine, thin and with only two pages in it. “If you work out, I can guarantee you’ll make Major by the time you’re thirty. Probably sooner.”

I look at the pages. It’s not an official proposal, but does provide me with an idea of what this secret program is offering. Swift promotion, my own team to direct, lots of travel, and the hazard pay rates. There’s no mention of flight time, though there is a note that they’ll make hours available to keep up with my accreditation. Without looking up I say, “Will I be working in hostile territories, sir?”

Teal’c says, “Yes,” even as she says, “Sometimes.” She puts the third folder, this one thick with triplicate forms, on top of the benefits summary. “If you agree, you’ll need review and sign these.”

The word ‘treason’ jumps out at me just on the first page. What the fuck sort of program is this? I glance up at Carter, then over to Teal’c. There’s just a light level of nerves from her, as if she’s afraid I’ll refuse. He’s still stoic, but has that piercing gaze on me once again. My whole career has been leading to the sky. They’re asking me to give it up.

Jump down the rabbit hole, or go back to the wizard?

“Trust me,” Carter says quietly as I’m debating, “it is worth it. There’s…absolutely nothing like this program.” I can hear the smile in her voice.

“There are many wonders unseen by this world through the chappa’ai,” Teal’c adds. “It would be an honor if you would help us discover them.”

I continue to stare at the non-disclosure agreement. Finally, I pick up the pen and the first packet of forms.

I always did prefer Alice over Dorothy.

  


* * *

After signing the non-disclosure agreements, I’m sent back to my hotel room at the local Marriott. I thought it was a little upscale for a Captain, but from what I just spent four hours reading, the program may be so important they treat everyone this well. There were mentions of extra-terrestrial material, and non-native flora and fauna in one packet. Another indicated I’d run across advanced technologies not authorized for Earth-atmosphere interaction.

The UFO nuts have it wrong. Area 51 is a hoax. The aliens are in NORAD.

I’m awake and ready for my physical at oh-nine-hundred sharp the next day. I don’t remember sleeping, but I must have because I’m extra alert without any morning coffee and I’m half-sure my breakfast of English muffins is going to decorate the infirmary bed.

The petite woman examining me, Janet Fraiser, has red hair and a no-nonsense look that reminds me a bit of my grandmother. “If you’re going to be sick, Captain, tell me now.” She snaps on her latex gloves and raises an eyebrow at me.

I try to smile and feel my stomach do a slow loop-de-loop. “Just putting some things together from what I signed yesterday.”

“Wait until you see the Stargate,” she says, setting up her tray of instruments. I roll up my right sleeve at a wave of her hand. I’m wearing a set of blue BDUs rather than the full uniform today. “And try not to lose it in front of General Bauer.”

“Yes ma’am.” I look away as she tests my blood pressure and readies her needles. The infirmary is the same drab concrete gray as the rest of the base, but with softer lighting, making it brighter and almost less harsh. As I feel the first needle pierce my skin, I notice the nursing staff. My first thought is that it’s mostly women, but by the second needle, I feel my brow furrow. It isn’t just mostly women. Come to think of it, the MP’s who escorted me yesterday were definitely not the type I’m used to seeing. In fact, other than Teal’c… “Ow!”

Fraiser takes an alcohol wipe and runs it over the now bleeding spot on my arm. “Sorry about that. Your veins are hard to see.”

“Tan from the beach,” I reply automatically. Then, as she applies the bandage, “So I can’t help but notice a distinct lack of y-chromosomes present.” She continues working, but I see her shoulders tense up. “Ma’am.”

“Yes.” She clears her throat, then moves to my other arm. “We’ll need to do the CT and MRI scans shortly. Anything not in your medical record I should know about?”

No, ma’am.”

She nods and starts writing in her chart. I’m pretty sure she’ll just ignore my comment when she says, “We had a bit of an epidemic.” I just wait quietly. Her voice has lowered and she’s not looking up from her paperwork. “Ninety-six percent of the men were affected. They’ve been…forcibly relocated.”

I grimace. All the air down here is recycled and filtered. A part of my brain starts panicking and screaming at me to run away. I just knew that Resident Evil game I played with my nephews would come back to haunt me. Instead, after an awkward silence, I clear my throat. “And the other four percent?”

“They were…resistant to the effects.” She stops writing and sighs, her smile gone as she pulls the curtain. “The…epidemic made men libidinous, but also slightly,” she hesitates, “delusional, is perhaps the best term. The remaining four percent were able to overcome both situations enough to lockdown the upper levels of the base. We lost three of them when they encountered the rest of the population.”

I just nod. What the hell did I sign up for? I mean, they wouldn’t let men back in unless the place was sterilized, but Christ, a disease that targets men? I feel my muscles going rigid at the thought. She just waits, her arms folded in front of her, watching me.

God, this feels like another test.

Finally, she hands me two plastic cups and indicates the small bathroom with a look. It takes me a minute to realize what she wants. I don’t blush much, but I can feel my ears burn a bit. I go in and shut the door, willing my bladder to relax for two seconds.

“Once the situation was resolved,” her voice jars me through the door, and my first bout of piss misses the mark—and the toilet—entirely, “we investigated possible reasons for resistance. Teal’c had a natural immunity from his sym…system. Immune system.”

Yeah, that’s totally what you were gonna say, I mentally mumble, trying to aim the next round into the cup properly.

“Once we ruled that out, it took a few days to discover that the resistant population had only one common denominator.” She stops there, probably because she hears the splash of the toilet as I pee. Once I’ve capped the first cup, she continues. “It took so long to discover because the men didn’t want to talk about it. And it wasn’t something we could just ask.”

I freeze at that. Something they couldn’t ask?

“Once they could tell us, though, their ability to ignore the delusional side-effects made sense.”

I open the door and stare at her. Before my mind catches up I hear myself blurt, “They were immune because they were gay?”

There’s a glint in her eye, I’m not sure if it’s pride or glee or humor. She moves past me to grab the sealed container on the sink, and gives me a brief grin. “Got it in one, Captain Lorne.” She glances at my waist, and I realize I’ve just exposed myself to her. The blush spreads over my neck as she shoves something into my numb palm. “I’ll be back in five minutes. Be ready for your scans then.” She shuts the door and walks off.

I stand there another minute, fighting the humiliation, then look down at my hand.

She gave me a copy of Playgirl.

I swear I can hear her laughing as I bang my head against the door.

  


* * *

Major Carter ends up giving me the full tour, between bouts of paperwork and meetings. The Stargate is…amazing doesn’t even begin to describe it, but something settles within me the first time I see it engage. The formation of the event horizon, the thrill, the absolute power and beauty... It’s the exact same feeling I get pulling two-gees at thirty-thousand feet. Too bad if I try to capture this in my art, I’ll probably be executed.

Might just be worth it.

Teal’c, who’s an alien called a Jaffa, and Doctor Fraiser, give me a crash course on the Stargate history, the Goa’uld, and what I might face going through the wormhole. I end up staying on base the full week, reading reports and staring at the dark when I’m supposed to be sleeping. One man, Doctor Daniel Jackson, I regret not meeting. He unlocked the Stargate, and sounds like a great guy. Teal’c’s shadowed eyes told me he was one of the ones taken by the epidemic.

On Monday, I’m finally called to meet General Bauer, and to receive my specific assignment while at Stargate Command. The conference room is standard, with a long black table and a window overlooking the Stargate. Major Carter and Teal’c are there, along with another white-coat, a doctor I haven’t met. That’s a bit surprising. Without the usual compliment of men, the base is severely understaffed, and I’ve met almost everyone.

I take my seat beside the stranger just as General Bauer walks in. My first impression is that he’s like every other general. Crew cut white hair, face aged by battles won and lost, and the shadow of political intrigue in his every movement. He doesn’t even acknowledge me, instead speaking with Carter over some recent issues he was just made aware of.

Sketching the symbols of Earth on my notepad, I discover three very important facts about Bauer. The first is that he doesn’t like Teal’c. At all. It’s obvious in the way he refuses to show his back to the man, or even let his eyes settle on the alien He’s probably old hat, a traitor is a traitor, despite all that Teal’c has done for the base. The second thing is that he’s in over his head both technologically and socially. This is a man who has led battalions of men and can strip a rifle with the best of them. Women appear to baffle him, and he doesn’t understand half of what comes out of Carter’s mouth.

Most importantly, it’s very, very obvious that he’s just a figurehead. Sure, he’s a General, but Carter’s the one calling the shots on hiring, on resources, on what to do next. It’s all carefully veiled in double-talk and not-quite suggestions, but if you’re sharp enough it’s plain as day. He’s an attempt to keep up the status quo with the mass reduction of literal manpower. And he’s ever so quietly failing.

He knows it. He knows Carter knows. It’s only a matter of time before the base, and then the higher-ups, notice as well. So he’s using his rank and clout and experience as a club, trying to beat Carter back while salvaging his own career.

Taking a sip of my coffee, I can’t help but grin. It’ll be fun watching the Major dismantle him bit by bit. He’s too old-school to change his style. It’s sink or swim time, and I’m pretty sure Teal’c’s just waiting to throw him an anchor.

And dad told me I’d be shit at officer politics.

After an agreement that sounds a bit more like a stalemate settles between Carter and Bauer, the General finally looks at me and the woman beside me. “Doctor Greene, Captain Lorne.”

Doctor Greene waves a bit shyly at his stern greeting. I set my pad facedown on the table and nod, not bothering with a salute. He doesn’t seem to notice, already flipping through a folder in front of him. “You two will be assigned to SG-1 to check out P3X-573.” He slides a folder across the table to me. “Your primary objective is to determine the viability of mining operations for trinium along the mountains.”

I glance through the folder, familiarizing myself with the initial survey. I’ve become as familiar as possible with the new elements, trinium and naquadah. That’s what I was hired for, after all. I almost miss Bauer’s next words.

“Greene, you’ll be present in case you come across any of the deserters.” I fight to keep my head from snapping up, but from the corner of my eye I see Carter tense at the term. “It was a planet you initially classified as uninhabited and safe,” he says to Carter. “If you locate any of our personnel, they are to be brought in. Extreme force is sanctioned.”

“Sir!”

Bauer glowers at Carter’s outburst. “Major, you outlined the threat that the escape represented. 573 is potentially resource-rich and off the Goa’uld radar.”

Teal’c bows his head. “The knowledge Daniel Jackson possesses of planetary designations and the weekly reports may lead them to this planet.”

He says it reluctantly, but I focus on the name. Daniel Jackson. The man who opened the Stargate, lived on Abydos for a year. One of the men affected by the epidemic. I’d been led to believe that it was an emergency relocation, but at least semi-controlled. It’s starting to sound like the afflicted left of their own will, before anyone could stop them.

But if they’re hallucinating, how could they be cohesive enough to gather materials from a planet? I’m definitely missing something. Something Bauer won’t talk about, but I’m willing to bet Carter will, once we’re on that planet.

Bauer leaves without officially ending the meeting. I duck down the stairs, taking the folder with me. We disembark in an hour. I make sure the MALP—handy little carry-all sensor device—has all the equipment I need and suit up for my first off-world trip. I’m in the Gateroom before the rest of the team, making sure everything is properly set on the MALP and working out how to approach Carter on the mission.

Doctor Greene arrives next, carrying a large medical bag along with the supplies in her backpack. Teal’c arrives next, followed by Carter and three marines, two women, one man. I’m not familiar with any of them, but their presence seems to make the doctor relax. So maybe it’s not quite the milk run it appears to be on paper.

The wormhole is established, the MALP goes through, we get the all clear, and I…hesitate. It’s a wormhole. I’m walking through it to another planet. It deserves a moment of pause. After a breath, I take my second leap down the rabbit hole.

  


* * *

My first words on an alien planet are “Make a hole!”

My second words are more along the lines of, “Blagh,” as I heave the contents of my stomach all over the side-steps of the Stargate’s pedestal.

My third words are, “Fucking Christ. You could warn a guy!”

I don’t hear a laugh, but there’s definitely an air of humor from the jarhead contingent of our group. “I’m fine, really,” I say to Greene as she hands me a canteen and checks my pulse.

“Sorry,” Carter finally says. “We’re still recalibrating the stabilizing dampeners. Ever since the…well, they’ve been wonky for a while.”

Ever since the men fled the base like rats from a ship, I finish in my head. “How come none of you are affected?”

Which is when Peterson, the other non-alien male party of our team, stops looking so smug and splatters his own boots with the contents of his last meal. There’s a general pause as Greene goes over and Carter clears her throat. “To be honest, you’re the first men we’ve taken through the Stargate in a while. It was offline and…well, non-Gate veterans usually have a tough time.” I finally look at her, and see she really does regret the fact that my first step through wasn’t quite so smooth.

Once Peterson has himself back under control, Carter leaves him and Greene at the Gate. Teal’c and the other two head out to form a perimeter, while Carter takes control of the MALP and follows me towards the mountains. It’s fairly silent, me taking a couple swigs from the canteen to wash out my mouth, when she nervously clears her throat. “The first time I stepped through, I was so dizzy I couldn’t stand up for five minutes.” She lets out a loose chuckle. “Froze my ass off, too. It just takes a while to get used to.”

Obviously they worked out the freezing bit. My stomach isn’t feeling quite so forgiving, but I offer a small smile, accepting the peace offering. It takes another hour for us to reach the base of the mountains. I pull out the first probe and begin setting it up as the Major calibrates the computer equipment. I wait until I’m squatting on the ground before casually saying, “So if there are deserters on this planet, what’re the odds I’ll contract the disease?”

I hear her fingers stumble on the keyboard, then, hesitantly, “You were cleared for off-world travel, which means we determined you were highly likely to resist the…contagion.”

I nod, wait until she’s typing again, then continue with, “And these hallucinations, they’re coherent enough that the men can strategize which planets would be most beneficial for mining and other resources?” There’s no smattering of keys this time. Instead, I feel her gaze upon the back of my neck. I wait a minute, then two, then look up and meet her eyes.

I want to say something smart. Hell, I have a half-dozen zingers dancing on my tongue. But she’s defensive enough. If I push too hard, she’ll shut down. And I want to know the truth. Hell, I deserve the truth.

So I just wait, refusing to break eye-contact.

It takes almost a full three minutes, as I count it in my head, but she looks away first, scanning the area around us. When she doesn’t see anything, she comes over and squats beside me, looking over the probe. “You’re perceptive, Captain.”

“You didn’t hire an idiot, sir.”

“No, I didn’t.” She rubs the edge of the probe. “It’s classified.”

“Major, if I’m going to be on this team—your team,” I emphasize, “I have a right to know what I might be facing.”

“I know.” Her reply is filled with resignation. “But I’m not at liberty to discuss it.”

I eye her over, then glance in the direction of the Stargate. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure this out. “Bauer’s afraid of what’ll happen if the truth gets out.”

“Not just Bauer,” she says quietly. “It was—is a major embarrassment.”

I suck in a breath. “So they really are…deserters? Just, went through the Stargate with a screw off to Earth?”

“No! No.” She shuts her eyes and sighs. She finally sits down, her back against the MALP. I fold my legs under me and shift so I can sit beside her. I’m not sure if she’s gathering her thoughts or preparing another rebuttal. “We had a foothold situation.”

I blink. That’s…not what I expected to hear. “An alien incursion?”

“A Goa’uld, buried on Earth came to the SGC to use the Stargate. She seduced the men with some sort of pheromone, enslaved them to her will.”

Her. Which explains why certain people weren’t taken in by the spell. “She took the men.”

“She tried to set up shop on Earth. We—the women—were able to get free, fight back. But not before…” I see her shoulders slump. “We…I lost most of my team that day. Along with the General, and almost all of the men on base. The computers reset once they were through the Gate. We didn’t know where they’d gone.”

“But if they’re with a Goa’uld, their knowledge is her knowledge,” I say. She just nods. “Fuck.” I rest my head against the MALP. That’s…I’m not sure if that’s better or worse than an unknown epidemic targeting men. “And you have no idea…?” She just shakes her head. I sit there, resting my arms on my knees, before finally spitting out, “You can’t keep shit like that from us new recruits.”

Instead of getting defensive, she lets out a wobbly breath, “I know. I fought so hard to include it in the training packet. But the General-“

“Is an asshole,” I say. “Who doesn’t know that we’d treat anyone we came across as less than hostile. I mean, it’s just begging to have us let down our guard so they can shoot us with our own guns!”

“I know,” she says again. “Orders from above,” in a dead tone, like she’s had it hurled against her so often it has no meaning.

Well, if she can risk her ass to tell me, I can risk my ass to help her. So I reach over and rest my arm around her shoulders in a solid hug. “We’ll get them back. I promise.”

She laughs, a little broken, but a small smile follows it, along with a glint of hope in her eye. “Guess I can relax,” she teases, “with Captain Lorne on the case.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say as cocky and sure as I can. This time, the laugh is stronger, more companionable.

She accepts my one-armed support a little longer before standing up and brushing the dirt off her ass. “Come on, Captain. This survey won’t get done itself.”

“Of course.” I get back to the probe, finish the prep, and stand up to help her begin the bedrock analysis. “I’ll have this done in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” I nudge her with my elbow and, a little quieter, I say, “The other thing may take a bit more time.”

The melancholy has returned to her smile, but she nudges me back. “Thank you, Capt…thank you, Evan.”

“Lorne.”

“Lorne.”

We’re a little late getting the results we need, but by the end of the trip I’m feeling better about stepping through the Stargate with this team.

  


* * *

_“I remember Bauer. They replaced him…what, three years ago?”_

The sarcastic voice is back. My hindsight, perhaps? Dad always said I took after Indian Jones in that regard. But then who’s the other one?

 _“That is my Chosen.”_ I feel the sensation of a hand through my hair. It’s good hair. Not fancy like Shep’s, but still a crowd pleaser.

 _“Perhaps we needn’t focus on the past,”_ the gentler male voice says. Logical, friendly. Perhaps it’s my common sense? Except wouldn’t that have my sarcastic edge, too?

 _“What do you mean, beloved”_ the woman asks.

 _“We know the history of the SGC. What we need is his team. Who they are, how they work.”_

 _“He’s right. It’s this team for a reason.”_

My team. MY team. SG-7. It’s a great team. Bit broken at times, but still, my team.

 _“And it is an impressive team. Tell me, beloved, of it. And how you came to be here.”_

Here? What do you mean by here?

 _“Just tell us of your team. Your latest team.”_

Latest. If that isn’t the running joke of the SGC.

  


* * *

I finally get a nice bit of vacation about two years after joining the SGC. I head back to San Fran, kick it with my nephews, mess around with some guy with fantastic cowlicks, and come back in time to reassemble SG-7.

Yes, reassemble. My team history with the SGC is laudable and renowned. With SG-1 I helped settle four mining planets, nearly got Teal’c executed off-world, helped a race call the Tollan escape, slept with Carter by alien-inducement, and nearly blew up Earth trying to stop Apophis. And despite rumors to the contrary, I did not give General Bauer that aneurysm. My art work does not try to kill people, as Teal’c can attest.

Well, okay, so he’s Teal’c, but I stand by my statement.

My first year commanding SG-7, I have three fresh recruits, the first non-gay or women personnel allowed back on base other than the General. Aiden Ford, a marine; Jay Elliott, fellow flyboy; and Doctor Robert Rothman, an archeologist. Carter becomes the temporary head of base and Teal’c forms a new SG-1 with some of the older members of the SGC. And I get that promised promotion to Major well ahead of schedule.

This team lasts two years, in which I disobey orders and stay with a girl who would go nuclear (Cassie, same age as my nephews, I couldn’t leave her), we discover a second Stargate on Earth (damn cold, I can tell you), meet the advanced race of the Furlings (Native American spirits, apparently), kidnap Apophis’ baby, and later Apophis himself (separate times, not so clean results either time), and travel back through time (I rock as a hippie).

I lose Aiden Ford first to sarcophagus addiction. He had a taste of it off-world by some deranged princess. He nearly died getting weaned off it, but he seemed to be fine. What we didn’t know is that he used the one on-base without our knowledge. Sokar, the Goa’uld pretending to be the Devil, used it on him on our last mission, and that was apparently the breaking point. When we found him…well, I wasn’t going to leave Ford to be any snake’s puppet. We brought his body back, and I personally gave the folded flag to his cousin.

Elliott gets taken over by a Goa’uld called Jolinar, only it claims to be part of a resistance cell called Tok’ra. A Goa’uld assassin kills the snake, but the memories remain. We’re allies with the Tok’ra, now, after Elliott offered himself as a host to the snake Selmak. We still see him, occasionally, but he gets to fly spaceships instead of planes. It’s not exactly rocket science to figure out he isn’t going to come back just to be on my team.

I don’t loose Rothman to alien technologies or aliens themselves. He gets offered the job to be head of archeological studies on-base. Better pay, and while he misses the field, he loves his new position. He’s still around, joining me for lunch occasionally and helping Carter with the more anthro-related issues.

Carter sends me out after that to work with the mining sites. I come back to System Lords, Asgard, and finally, some form of orbital protection that we just haven’t been able to get since the program started. Asgard, by the by, have strange mouths. Other people can’t stand the eyes, or the nakedness, but for me, the mouths are just…weird.

And now, finally, after some rest and relaxation, I get to build my team again. Carter—now full-bird Colonel Carter—is officially in command of the SGC, reporting to an unknown General in Washington. I already know one member of my team is a Rodney McKay, someone she pulled from Area 51 for his expertise and to prevent…issues, back there. I haven’t yet met him, but it’ll definitely make things interesting.

I’m sitting in my office looking over dossiers when Colonel Ferretti strolls in, a set of folders under his right arm. Grinning like crazy, he takes a seat and puts his feet on my desk, crossing his ankles. Ferretti’s a bit of a legend. He was off-world during the Foothold Event—now a part of every introduction packet for those joining the SGC—and is head of the “Dream Team,” also known as SG-2. Every week is another adventure for them, and while I’ve had a few with my own team, theirs never seem to end with lost teammates.

After the Foothold, he was able to come out. When I first made Major he took me to a bar, got me shitfaced, then told me I sucked cock like a woman. I made sure he couldn’t walk straight for a week and since then we’ve been pretty cool. When I brought Aiden back, it’s his couch I crashed on. When Cassie stopped thinking I was a cool uncle, he got me a Playstation to distract me.

And when he ran into Jack O’Neill, his ex-CO and once best friend, in a Goa’uld ambush, I was there when they had to cut off his arm so the sarcophagus would heal him properly. That night he told me the story, the true story, of going to Abydos, defeating Ra, and about O’Neill, who now apparently works against the SGC, though he still, for some reason, wears the uniform. “It’s shit,” he had said, “he fucking hates those snakes. And now he’s her fuckin’ plaything!”

He recovered, of course. They all did. But since then SG-2 is at the forefront of the effort to bring those missing members home, even against their will.

Right now, SG-2 is recuperating from their last big adventure involving Sokar and his Hell moon exploding. Elliott was a part of it, but since I was away… Well, Carter probably had a good reason for not calling me in.

When he starts slapping the folders against his knee, I sigh and look at him. “Alright, Lou, what’s this one gonna cost me?”

He places a hand over his heart. “You wound me, E-man. Here I am, to help you out of the generosity of my heart-“

“Bull, Lou. I know that grin.” I do. It’s ear-to-ear showing his slightly crooked teeth. He had that grin in the bar, right before we went into the alleyway and he told me to blow him. “And get your crap-encrusted boots off my desk.” I whack the edge of one with a stapler, and get a bit of mud on my paperwork as a reward.

He laughs, loud and stringy. “Alright, alright. Look, I’m bringing in this flyboy, Mitchell. Got this gut feeling he’d be wild behind the controls of a ship.”

I raise my eyebrow at him. “And you think he’d be a good fit for my team?”

“Hell no! I want him for SG-2! Think he’ll make a damn fine team leader some day.”

I close the file I was looking at, a Lieutenant with a lot of accolades and no personality from the gist of it. Not sure that’s the sort of guy I want watching my back. Personality makes for a good team. “I told you after last time, I’m not going on another of your blind dates.”

“How was I to know it was a Goa’uld in disguise? Seriously, what were the odds.”

“He told us to bow down and kiss his feet!”

“We were in a leather club!”

I resist the urge to bang my head against the desk and instead cradle it in my hands. “Lou…”

“Alright, alright, listen.” He jerks his feet back and slides a folder to me all in one move. “Mitchell knows a guy, about to ship out to Afghanistan again. Great pilot, bit of a recluse. But definitely one of ours.”

I look at the edge of the folder. “John Sheppard?”

“Look at the hair and tell me he’s not gay.”

Ignoring Ferretti’s crude assumptions, I flip open the folder. I glance at his service record, deliberately avoiding the picture. Excellent scores, bit of a problem with authority figures, and he feels a little out of place with everyone on Earth. That’s actually a great sign, something I look for in psych reports. Where better to fit in than a place that travels to other worlds? The mountain isn’t just a haven for homosexuals. I’ll look deeper into that one reprimand, but it takes more than a black mark to keep someone from joining SGC.

And then I look at his picture. “Oh fuck me.”

“Cock’s a bit sore right now. Rain check?”

I do let my head fall to the desk this time. “Shut up.” I tap the picture, even as my forehead rests against the pre-fabricated tabletop. “He’s one of us.”

“That sure—oh shit! You’ve slept with him!”

A week ago in a lovely hotel suite not a mile away from my sister’s house. A bit hairy, but very flexible with pointed ears that turn red as his neck’s being nibbled on.

“Well then,” and I can just hear the elation in his voice, “now you definitely have to pull him in. He’ll be perfect!”

My head snaps up. “Ferretti!”

He shrugs. “What? SG-2 was part of an orgy.”

“SG-2 is a chevron short of a full address!” He snorts at that. “I, however, have a personal code! And number three of that code is ‘don’t fuck your team mates!’” Number two is ‘never paint someone you love’ and number one is ‘no one touches The Hat.’

I got that hat from Harrison Ford himself on the set of Raiders of the Lost Ark. That hat got me in the Force and my second night with the Mizuki twins. No one, absolutely no one but me touches it. Also, I look fucking fantastic wearing it. But that’s beside the point.

“He wasn’t part of your team then.” Ferretti leans forward and taps the folder, grin gone for a moment. “He’s got potential, Lorne, but he won’t last, not with that attitude, not out there. Here,” he thunks his finger against the desk, “here, he’ll become a damn fine officer.”

The ‘like you did’ floats unspoken between us. I glance at the picture, then to Sheppard’s history, and finally, I settle my gaze on Ferretti. “It’s that important to you, Lou?”

“Damn right it’s that important, Ev.” He leans back into his chair, sliding down so he’s slightly slouched. “Look, O’Neill was a pain in the ass and a right bastard. But I wouldn’t be half the officer I am today if he didn’t pull me from that shithole in the desert and whip me into shape.” He snaps his fingers. “No smartass comments.”

“No sir,” I say.

“And it would be a disservice to his memory if I didn’t follow in his footsteps. Didn’t do half bad with you. Now,” he holds up the other folder in his hands, “I got a new one. And you owe it to me, and to this facility, to do the same.”

I close Sheppard’s folder and pick it up, eyeing the front of it. “SG-7 isn’t a premier team.”

“Like hell it’s not. Me and Teal’c may be the stars of the show, but everyone knows if we’re gone it’s your team who pulls asses out of the fire.” He sits up again. “You and me, we shape the future of this facility. SG’s three through six? They’re field teams. They train the muscle, or scientists. The two of us, Ev? The two of us train team leaders.”

And really, what can I say to that? It’s unofficial, but definitely the highest praise I’ve had since joining the SGC. Not even Carter’s said that much before. Nodding slowly, I put Sheppard’s folder on top of McKay’s. “Alright, Ferretti. I’ll give Sheppard a go.”

And like that, all tension is gone. Ferretti’s grin is back, and I feel myself starting to relax. At least, until I look at the pile on my desk again and let out a dejected sigh. “I still need a fourth. And Carter’ll insist on a woman.” Which, sadly, doesn’t cut my work down.

Ferretti tilts his head to the side, and finally says, “What about that Teyla chick that came back with SG-1?”

  


* * *

Teyla Emmagan is an Athosian, a native discovered on the Jaffa-forbidden planet of Kheb. Teal’c and SG-1 went to try and find the Harcesis, discovered an energy being known as Mother Nature, and after wiping out Apophis’ forces like a pissed-off Thor she left with the child in question. A few hours exploring revealed the source of the temple keepers over the mountain ridge. They still believe they’ll be protected from the Goa’uld, but Teyla volunteered to return with SG-1 to spread the teaching of the Ancestors.

In the month since she’s been here, she’s been debriefed twenty-three times, undergone six psychological tests, and kicked Teal’c’s ass once. Those Zen vibes and ass-kicking skills are exactly what an SG team needs to make it out in our galaxy. It isn’t hard to find her. When not meditating or speaking with anthropologists, she spends her time in the Mess Hall.

According to Janet, she enjoys learning of Earth through their people, and meals are when they’re most sociable to approach. The Doc also lets me know that her favorite food is butterscotch pudding, so I’m sure to have a couple cups of it before approaching my potential team-mate. Her smile is soft, not showing any teeth, and she pushes her hair back as I sit across from her, a habit I suspect she picked up since she arrived. “Hey Miss Emmagan.”

“Major Lorne,” she acknowledges, grasping the hand of a sergeant passing by before turning her full attention to me. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of a meal with you before.”

I offer my Charmer grin in response and hand over one of the pudding cups with a spoon. “Well, I have been away. Thought I’d stop by, strike up a chat.”

“I see.” She continues to smile, but her eyes sparkle knowingly. “Will this chat be similar to those I’ve had with Robert?”

I have to think for a minute. “Rothman? No, no.” I make a mental note to stop by and see him, too. Haven’t had time for the Doc since I got back. “Just wanted to see how you’re settling in.”

“Quite well.” She peels off the cover of the pudding, still eyeing me up. “I am not used to a room with no access to the sky, but I am…acclimating.”

I open my own dessert and tap the spoon on the table. “Yeah, the quarters here don’t have the best view. Grey walls, fake farm portraits, white stripes.” That earns me a twitch of her lips. “From the reports, it doesn’t sound like the Athosians were big on travel.”

She scrapes a bit of pudding from the cup and eyes me over it. “Our primary settlement beyond the mountains is not our only place of residence. We make a pilgrimage every year to the Temple of Ascension. And to the east we have a small settlement by the Pond of Contemplation. I travel every fall to witness the coming rains.”

It does sound picturesque. “So being under the mountain is a dramatic change.”

“Colonel Carter has gained permission to allow me to roam the mountain side.” She sets her food down and lets out a long breath. Not quite a sigh, but probably as close as she comes to one. “It is not quite the same,” she admits with a slight edge on her voice.

I slide over my half-finished cup and raise an eyebrow invitingly. “Don’t suppose you’d want to head off-world as part of a team, break up the monotony of hanging out down here.”

She picks up the offered dessert, looking me over with a critical eye. “And my function on this team?”

“Well,” I lean back in the chair, trying to appear casual as I cross my arms, “your fighting skill alone makes you a valuable team member. However,” I tighten my grin up a bit, showing my teeth, “I’ve seen your diplomatic capabilities with the staff here, especially the patience it takes to handle some of the more persistent personnel.”

She takes a scoop of the pudding, but doesn’t say anything. I shrug. “I think you’d be excellent as the official team ambassador.” I lean forward, resting my arms on the table. “Interested?”

She still doesn’t respond, instead focusing on finishing the dessert. I try to keep up my smile, but I feel it slip, just a bit. Finally, she sets the spoon and the plastic cup down, and leans forward herself, mirroring my position. “I believe I am. After,” she gives her own shark-like grin, “we clarify a few details.”

I really should stop listening to Ferretti’s suggestions. Still, I nod, and after an hour of negotiating, head up to Carter to formally put in my request to have Teyla added to my team. That takes another hour, but something settles when Sam finally rubberstamps the final team assignation. Now, I just need to handle my last teammate’s arrival.

Sheppard, still has lithe and handsome as that night in the bar, ends up being a little less amenable than I anticipated. I meet him on the interim level, where he has to sign in to get to the SGC. I make sure his guide takes the stairs, and hit the lowest floor on the elevator so we have a good five minutes. He hasn’t let on that he knows me, except for a subtle flinch that no one else picked up on. He stares at the doors as they close and I punch the control panel. “Major.”

“Lieutenant,” I say back. He takes a deep breath, but I look him square in eye and say, “Welcome to the SGC. I’m your new CO.” He does wince then, and I make a mental note to look a little more closely at his previous post.

“Is my office next to yours, sir?”

I roll my eyes. “Cut the sir, shit, Sheppard. This isn’t like that. Yes, San Fran was great. Hell, it was fantastic.” A bit of a smirk appears at that. “But all it was, was a vacation. Yeah, things are different here, but I don’t sleep with my subordinates.” I step back and lean against the wall. “At least, not on purpose.”

Sheppard takes the hint and slouches on the other side of the car. “So it’s just coincidence?”

“If anything, blame your friend Major Mitchell. He recommended you to his new CO.”

“So how’d I end up with you as my CO?”

“Ferretti has a sick sense of humor, but he knows potential when he sees it.” I nod at him. “So do I.” He doesn’t blush, but he straightens up a bit from his slouch. He doesn’t say thank you, either, but then, I know he isn’t the type. “San Fran was an awesome vacation.”

“It was pretty awesome,” the smirk is in full effect now as the elevator reaches the bottom floor.

I swipe my card and send us back up, this time to Sheppard’s actual destination. “Glad we agree.”

“It’s just the transfer was sudden and,” he kicks his toe against the ground, mouth flattening out, “well, it wouldn’t be the first time a CO took…liberties.”

“Well, if that SOB ever shows up here, be sure to point him out. I’ll have Teal’c reset his nose.”

At that, he raises an eyebrow. “Teal’c?”

“You’ll see what I mean when you meet him.”

After his introductory tour, when he’s met the large alien, he slaps me on the back and asks me how soon he can give me that list of bastards. I chuckle, feeling more confident in my decision.

I finally call for a full team meeting a couple days later. It doesn’t go quite as smoothly as I hope. Sheppard’s cool, decked out in his new SGC uniform, and Teyla has adopted the blue BDUs as well. However, instead of Doctor McKay sitting at the table, I discover a shy Asian woman with square glasses, arching eyebrows, and a demure smile. “Who’re you?”

She bobs her head. “I am Doctor Miko Kusanagi. I am to be on your team.”

I frown and check my folder. “You sure? I still have Doctor McKay on my roster.” And Sam would’ve definitely told me if she’d decided to switch things up at the last minute.

She straightens her glasses even though they’re perfectly balanced on the bridge of her nose. “Yes. He has decided I should have some off-world experience. I hope I am able to satisfy your requirements as a scientist.” She beams at me, as if what she just said is an honor for her rather than a brush-off to me. Maybe, on some level, it is.

However, that’s not McKay’s call to make. Slapping my folder closed, I smile tightly at the doctor and, through slightly clenched teeth, say, “Teyla, would you take Doctor Kusanagi for some tea? I need to…review the roster.”

Teyla doesn’t bat an eye, just touches Miko’s arm gently and ushers her out of the room without the other woman even realizing she’s been dismissed. Already, she’s settling into her diplomatic role, fitting in with the team.

Wish I could say the same for McKay.

Heading for the door, it isn’t until I’m in the elevator that I notice Sheppard’s following me. “You’re dismissed, Lieutenant.”

“With all due respect,” he says in a tone with none, “you could use a chaperone.”

“I could still send you back.” He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “I mean it, Sheppard.”

“And I’m not letting you shoot a scientist. You’re too pretty for prison.”

“Black kettle,” I mutter as the doors open and I storm my way through the corridor. McKay’s only been at the mountain for three weeks, but his reputation precedes him. I know exactly where his lab is, and judging by the looks on some of the scientists, they wouldn’t be too upset if I did take a swing or worse at the man.

Looming in the doorway, I glare at the broad-shouldered man working on a whiteboard with a red marker. He’s not wearing the SGC uniform, but rather a shirt with a faded geek symbol and jeans. Beside him is a shorter man in green BDUs swearing up a storm in another language and pulling at his hair, glasses askew. Neither of them notices me at first, but Sheppard clears his throat and they both spin to face the door. “Doctor McKay.”

The smaller one lowers his arms and snorts. “Told you it would not work.”

“Shut up Zelka.”

“Zelenka,” the man yells.

“McKay,” I say again, louder, “we have a meeting.”

He waves his hand at me, blue eyes looking me over and dismissing me in an instant. “I don’t do off-world. My brain’s far too valuable to risk getting electrocuted or subjected to those pain sticks Jawas are so fond of.”

“Jaffa,” Sheppard corrects from behind me. “And I wouldn’t let Teal’c hear you call them that. He knows what they are.”

McKay rolls his eyes at that, as if he’s above such details. “I’m sure,” he says scathingly, obviously unaware that Teal’c has a large collection of Star Wars memorabilia. “Anyways,” he looks back at me, “I sent you a sufficiently capable scientist as a replacement. She’s not nearly as incompetent as half my staff, and as familiar with Goa’uld technology as I am.”

I scowl and step forward. “I don’t care how good she is. You don’t get to decide to just abandon your job and send a replacement. You were assigned to SG-7.”

“I’m much more suited to working in the labs here.”

The smaller man, Zelenka, coughs, but at my glare quickly raises his hands and backs away. I stalk forward and stand chest-to-chest with McKay. “I don’t care where you’re ‘suited’, McKay. Carter saved your scrawny ass from Area 51, which means you go where she tells you.”

He scowls right back, glaring at me. “If you think a jarhead who can’t even meet roller coaster height requirements-“

I slam my palm against the board behind him and he flinches, backing into the whiteboard and shrinking in on himself. I don’t like pulling the bully card, but I do know how to use it. I step forward again and lower my voice. “Let’s get a few things straight, Doctor.” I add a growl to my voice. “One, I’m a flyboy. Two, the ‘jarheads’ of this mountain have saved your ass from Goa’uld invasions and they deserve your fucking respect.”

His cheeks start going red and he says, “I didn’t mean-“

I slam my hand again, which shuts him up quickly. “Three, I’m tall enough to go on roller coasters and other rides you won’t go near because you’re a frightened little egghead whose brain too valuable to be damaged.” I can see that actually hurts him, the way his eyes squint and he almost hugs himself. Almost. I’m a little too close to allow him to. “Four, I know exactly what you did and why Area 51 won’t touch you. And five,” I lean back, crossing my arms as I give him a casual look. “I will go to Carter and tell her you don’t want this transfer.”

It isn’t out there, exactly what McKay did, but Carter felt I deserved to know. I also know that if he hadn’t begged and pleaded, he’d be on a plane right now to Siberia to help them develop naquadah generators. It’s still an option, and if he’s going to be this much of a jackass, I will do it. Team integrity is the key to surviving out there. When Ford started to lose it, when the team started to fall apart…

Well, there were some days I could almost believe in a God. There was no other way to explain how we survived.

I stand there and wait, letting McKay deal with his internal struggle. I know he’s brilliant. He could be running Area 51 if it weren’t for his people skills and ego. And I didn’t take him on just because Carter asked me to. I read through his files, read through the report of the disaster, and what the report didn’t cover. The disaster could’ve been a lot worse, except McKay stepped up to handle both the emergency and the aftermath.

It’s probably why Carter hadn’t had him thrown into Leavenworth, and why enough higher-ups wanted to protect him; if from far, far away.

McKay finally crosses his own arms and tilts his chin up. “Fine. But I demand a team where the officer in charge of my wellbeing hasn’t physically intimidated me.”

I shake my head. “I’m your best bet. Ferretti would’ve just shot ya.” The blood drains from his face at that. “I’m joking.” Sort of. “Look. I’ll reschedule the meeting, and we’ll start fresh.” I cross my heart and hold out my hand. “Scout’s honor.”

Hesitantly, he reaches out, shakes my hand once, then pulls it back; as if I’m going to crush his fingers or try to break his arm. Not the best first impression I’ve given, but then, he hasn’t shown me his best side either. “Alright. Fine. I can, I can handle that.” Some of the arrogance has left his voice. “What time?”

“I’ll send you an email.” I turn and walk towards the door. Pausing at the threshold, I glance back. He’s watching me warily. His prickly aura is returning, shoulders no longer hiding his neck, arms crossed defensively, and he’s standing at parade rest. He’d be hot if he wasn’t such an asshole. Nodding, I head out the door.

Behind me, I hear Sheppard say, “You inverted your seventh integral,” and fall into step behind me as the other one, Zelenka, starts cursing again. In the elevator, he lets out a chuckle and shakes his head. “Remind me not to piss you off, Major.”

  


* * *

Our next team meeting goes a lot more smoothly. Doctor McKay is late and doesn’t apologize, but he’s there, so I count it as a win. There’s some sniping, mostly between Sheppard and McKay, but Emmagan—Teyla, she likes me to call her by her first name—is as valuable a mediator as I anticipated. McKay, as it turns out, is already weapons certified, so there’s no delay in sending us out on our first mission.

It’s nothing big; a milk-run to check on a couple mining sites before camping on Salish to check in with Tonane and his settlement. As my team settles in for the evening around the fire to dance and hear stories, I go off to speak with the Spirit aka the Furling Xe’ls. It’s not that Furlings don’t trust others, but I’ve apparently earned the honor of speaking with them in their true form, something that only Tonane and the elders now do.

“Your people no longer wish to mine,” Xe’ls says, the three gills on his face inflating somewhat. “You have discovered another source of trinium?”

I just nod. “Two planets.”

His eyes narrow. “And you have disrupted the life there as well? Destroying mountains for your precious rock?”

It’s always a high-wire act with Xe’ls. “It’s our way of mining.” I wave towards the village. “We know how you feel, but the Goa’uld are still a danger to us, and many other planets. We have no Spirits, to protect us.”

“You are wrong,” he says. “Your world is protected. Many are in this galaxy.”

I learned from Tonane that it’s better to just agree when it comes to matters spiritual with the Furlings. “Even so, they are not as interactive, as you. We must use our own methods, until they appear to us.” The gills inflate again, the membrane beneath an angry pink. “I assure you,” I say quickly, “I have verified the worlds are unpopulated. We are not displacing anyone.”

“Except you disrupt nature, destroy the very fabric of the world.”

I’ve actually been expecting this. “And we try to balance it. Plant trees, keep the land fertile and growing. We know the damage we do. We try to mitigate it.” The pink starts to fade away. “If you’d like, I could take some of your people to these worlds, help make sure the balance of nature is restored over time, even after we’ve left.”

He stands straighter at that, silver robe almost glowing from the light of the moon. “You are trying to have us abandon the Salish!”

I sigh. “Come on, Xe’ls. I thought we were past this.”

“Some of your kind came to this world recently,” he says, prickly. “They were not interested in the people, just where they received the mineral.”

Now it’s my turn to frown. “Xe’ls, travel to this planet is highly restricted. No one’s allowed to come unless I’m with them.”

“They wore your uniforms. They carried your weapons.” He points at my P90. “They wished harm to the Salish and to take the metal for themselves.”

That is very worrying. “Xe’ls, I swear to you on the spirits of my ancestors that we have no knowledge of this.” I know that oath is taken seriously, and Xe’ls knows I don’t invoke it lightly. “I offer myself for a test of truth, if that’s what you need. But I wouldn’t, Xe’ls, I wouldn’t endanger our peace. And I know my superiors wouldn’t either.”

Xe’ls continues to stare at me, gills huffing air in my direction, until he places his fist to his elbow and bows. “I apologize, Major Lorne. I sense no deception, and that your belief is real.” As he straightens, he tilts his head. “I will discuss with the others your proposal. Perhaps it is time we journeyed once again.”

“As long as you promise not to send the mining teams into stasis or turn them into animals, I think we can arrange it.”

The membrane turns slightly red now, a sign of amusement, I’ve come to learn. “Sometimes the Spirits must teach lessons. But we shall see.” With that, he braces his arms together and with a thunderclap Xe’ls is a raven once again, flying into the night.

As my team settles to sleep, I offer to take first watch. It’s good to get into these habits, even though McKay complains about being better suited to stay up late. Normally, I’d give it to him, but tonight I need the time to make out a quick report on my laptop. The second Stargate is locked away in Area 51, which means the only way people in SGC uniforms have made it here is through the SGC, or from off-world. I wasn’t lying when I said I monitored Gate traffic to this world.

However, I remember that time with Ferretti, and what he said about O’Neill. He’s a First Prime that wears BDUs, and I’ll bet most of the other men that went with him do the same. Teal’c and SG-1 have been following false trails recently. With luck, this’ll be exactly what they need to narrow down their search and get back on the right track.

Not a bad result from our first mission. Though I could do without McKay bitching about his back.

  


* * *

The problem, it turns out, is bigger than that. “Major Lorne,” Carter says as I shut the door to her office, “please, have a seat.”

I notice Ferretti’s there as well, no smile and sitting on the edge of his seat. “Maybe I should stand, sir.” At her stern look, I follow her order and sit down, making sure I’m leaning back in my chair. Ferretti’s tense enough for both of us. “What’s up?”

“Ferretti’s team just came back from Madrona.”

I know of it. SG-2 made contact with them almost six months ago. “The weather control planet, right?”

She nods tightly. “Apparently, their Touchstone, the device that controls the weather, was stolen. By SGC personnel.”

I blink once, twice, then look over to the Colonel. “O’Neill?”

“Not his style,” Ferretti states. “He may serve a bitch, but he’s still O’Neill. Why take a weather machine? Can’t use it without some training, and no one from the planet’s missing.”

“What about the archeologist, Jackson. He figured out the Stargate.”

“I already thought of that. However, one of the Madronians saw the symbols of the DHD.” She holds up a crude sketch written on one of the off-world notepad books. “Look familiar?”

It does. We all know it. “It hasn’t come through this facility.”

“No, it hasn’t. And Area 51 is quite adamant that the other Stargate is secure and impossible to use.”

I already see where this is going. “You want to send SG-7 to Area 51.”

“They may hate him, but McKay knows the place in and out.” She nods to Ferretti. “SG-2 will be working the technical side of things. We’ve had other reports. And Teal’c is convinced they’re not related to O’Neill or the others.”

Shit. “Right. We’ll be ready to go in the hour.”

“I’ll have a flight ready. They’re not aware of your arrival, so be prepared for anything.” Which in Carter speak means ‘bring a zat’. “If the Gate’s there, sit on it.”

“And if it’s not?”

Her gaze goes razor sharp and she plants her hands against the desk. “Have McKay tear that place apart. And if there’s a single piece of alien tech that’s not properly logged and origins accounted for, call in the National Guard.”

I salute and stand, power-walking my way through the base. This is bad. If there’s a covert team on Earth, hell, even off-Earth, it’ll burn our rep across this galaxy. We’re lucky O’Neill and the others haven’t done that already.

Which should’ve been my first clue something was wrong. O’Neill’s been laying low since they left, Ferretti’s encounter a random bit of luck. They wouldn’t be out, harming the SGC’s reputation, not if they were working with a Goa’uld trying to lay low. That’s not their style one bit. They subjugate, not sneak.

I let McKay get out one “Idiots!” before shoving him into the locker room. We’re going full tactical, security measures be damned.

As promised, Sam has a transport fueled and ready for lift-off the instant we arrive. It takes me a full hour to realize McKay’s bluster isn’t nerves at flying, but at returning to Area 51. Glancing at Sheppard, I wave my hand back and forth. He nods and we switch positions so I can sit next to the muttering scientist. Lowering my voice, I say, “You’ll do fine.”

He jumps a full inch before his restraints stop him and he glares. “Of course I’ll do fine.” The red tint in his cheeks doesn’t agree with his scathing bravado. “I know the base and the technology better than anyone.”

“Look,” I say, hoping Sheppard and Teyla aren’t listening too closely, “I know it wasn’t all your fault.” The hint of blush becomes flaming. “You got the shaft, but you saved a lot of lives.”

“That’s not what they remember.”

“Maybe not. But you’re part of my team now. Anyone gives you shit, tell ‘em to fuck off. They keep it up, I’ll have Sheppard shoot ‘em.”

His eyes widen and he opens his mouth, sputtering silently for a minute, then swallows and says, “Why?”

“Like I said, you’re part of my team now.” I squeeze his shoulder. “You didn’t listen, but when it all went south, you stepped up to try and save lives.”

“But,” he continues in that same uncertain voice, “you hate me.”

“Doc, if I hated you, I’d have told the Spirits to turn you into a tree.” He does sputter at that, loudly. Sheppard gives me a look but Teyla seems to sense all’s well and distracts Sheppard with a question about flying. “We had a rough start, but you made it off-world twice now.”

He huffs. “Carter won’t take my request to transfer to base seriously.”

“Carter knows the Czech will blow up her office if she tries. Look, you’re a pain, but you try. And everyone deserves a second chance.” This time, I punch his arm.

“Ow! I’ll have you know I bruise easily!” He clutches at his arm, but his scowl isn’t harsh. “I should report you for physical assault.” It’s a petulant voice, but a small, almost crooked grin sneaks across his face.

“Then who’d protect you from Teal’c when you called him a Jawa?”

He huffs again, but settles down, the tension bleeding out of him. I lean back in the seat and close my eyes. McKay’s rough, but I meant it about second chances. Him and Sheppard, they both tried to do the right thing and got burnt for it. Hell, I’ve done it, but I was lucky enough to be at the SGC with a lenient CO. If I can’t grant even the smallest courtesy I’ve been shown, I don’t deserve the gold leaves on my collar.

We land shortly after that and, as Carter expected, Area 51 is extremely not pleased to see us. The soldiers look pained when they explain their no weapons policy, but a quick call to the Joint Chiefs has them ushering my team through without further fuss. Once there, Colonel Maybourne, one of the slimier men of command I’ve met, smiles at us, until he spots McKay. “Major Lorne. What I can do for your…team today?”

“Well, we’re-”

McKay steps ahead of me, waving a hand up. “Where’s Stalone?”

Maybourne smiles again. “Colonel Stalone has been…reassigned.”

“Figures.” McKay crosses his arms. “Only way they could steal the second Gate is if they got rid of him. He was fanatic about security.”

“We all are,” Maybourne says, narrowing his eyes. “I can take you to it, if you like.”

This time, McKay waves the Colonel away. “Like I need you to get anywhere. Still,” he looks over the man, “you’d probably warn whoever it is, so you might as well come with us.” With that, he walks over to a set of jeeps.

Maybourne gets a constipated look. “I don’t know about the Stargate missing, but I’m pretty sure he’s been banned from the base.”

“You’d be surprised how much galactic thievery can motivate change,” I say, nodding after McKay. “You heard the man. Let’s go.” It’s a quick drive to the hangar holding the Gate. Sheppard, I note, keeps a close eye on McKay, glaring at any MPs approaching him. He glances at the card scanner and keypad, then digs through his vest.

Maybourne steps up, “I’ve got this, Doctor McKay. The codes have been changed.”

At that, McKay snorts and pulls out a keycard and swipes it in the scanner before inputting a code. The door begins to open, which has Maybourne’s jaw dropping. “I put a backdoor in years ago.” He glares at the man. “Did no one read my report regarding on-base security and upgrading to biometric scanners? I left it on Stalone’s desk four times.” With that, he’s muttering about incompetents and failure of the military industrial complex as he walks to the crate holding the second Stargate.

As the MPs unlock the large locks, Maybourne finally pulls himself together and turns to me. “You should get your civilian under better control, Major. Talk like that could get a man into trouble.”

“Are you threatening a member of my team, sir?” Instead of replying he slips on a pair of sunglasses. Smarmy bastard.

As the box is finally opened, he spreads his arms. “There, you see? Perfectly safe and sound.” His grin remains in place until Sheppard, for some reason, decides to rap his fist against the Gate. The hollow, plastic sound that echoes around the room wipes the smirk clear off Maybourne’s face. “What?”

“Plastic,” Sheppard says unnecessarily. “Not very real, either. Only has 38 glyphs on the inner ring.”

Maybourne is gaping now, and I feel almost sorry for him. This is definitely career ruining, though if he got this job he may have enough pull to salvage it. “Colonel Maybourne,” it takes him a minute to tear his eyes away from the fake Stargate. “Under the authority invested by Stargate Command, I am hereby taking command of this base until a thorough inventory can be conducted and all personnel accounted for.”

“I…right.” He clears his throat. “Right. I’ll have someone show Doctor McKay to the main storage facility.”

McKay, looking thunderous, comes back. “Colonel Stalone would never have let this happen!”

“You can’t know-“

“I worked with the man for three years,” he yells. “You couldn’t steal a donut from the break room without him knowing! He kept tabs on absolutely everything, and you just dismiss him?! For political power?! You fucking idiot!”

At this point I step forward, partially because McKay’s so red he looks like he’ll have a stroke, and partially because I think he may actually deck Maybourne. “McKay, go check the inventory.” He opens his mouth. “Now,” I say firmly. “Sheppard, escort him.” It’s a loud departure, but McKay does follow my orders. I nod to Teyla, who begins examining the room, trying to find clues that I’m pretty sure are no longer here.

“I honestly didn’t know,” Maybourne says, stunned. “I thought it was secure.”

“Well it’s not.” I pull out the satellite phone Carter gave me. “And now we all have a problem.”

  


* * *

McKay takes Carter’s order seriously and begins a thorough investigation of all projects and technologies on-base. Despite his history, seeing him wearing a gun and with the full force of MPs behind him is motivation enough to get the scientists working. By the time I rejoin him and Sheppard in the primary warehouse, SG-2 has located the other Stargate—the real one—in Utah and is on their way there to retrieve it and, hopefully, the Touchstone.

They manage to get it, of course, along with a DHD, but the rogue team escapes through a wormhole and they aren’t able to get the address. Ferretti’s disappointed, but deep down, I’m pretty satisfied with how this worked out. For the first time my team was in a high-pressure situation. Sure, no one was shooting at us, but Sheppard knew his duty to guard the civilian, Teyla was able to subtly interrogate both guards and scientists without arousing suspicions, and Rodney finally developed some trust in the team itself.

I am slightly afraid that I’m about to lose McKay to Area 51, but the President arranges for a special task force and we’re back in Colorado by the end of the week. Maybourne’s been recalled, and the tension from Carter’s shoulders has eased. Not vanished, granted, since the bad guys got away, but still better than when she first called me in to send me to Nevada. “What’s the word, boss?”

Carter shakes her head and collapses back in the leather chair, letting it roll back a bit from the desk. “The second Stargate will be moved here, and Colonel Maybourne’s pleading ignorance.”

“I’d probably agree with him this time,” I cross my arms and lean against the doorframe. “What’s the investigation on the rogue team looking like?”

At that she sighs. “The NID is taking over the investigation. Knowing Senator Kinsey, he’ll use it against us somehow.”

I haven’t met Senator Kinsey. When he was visiting the SGC last time, I was off saving the world form Apophis’ attack. Scuttlebutt is that he and General Bauer were very buddy-buddy, and Fraiser threw a urine sample in his aide’s face. I’m not sure if the latter is true, but I haven’t the nerve to ask. Janet’s cool, but she wields a mean needle when she wants to.

In the meantime I shrug. “That’s another day. I’m heading home. Need a ride?”

She scrubs her face with her hand. “I’d love to, but I’m going to be here a while. Have to resort some missions that were put off for this.” She pulls herself closer to the desk again. “Hey, you think your team is up to investigating a Mayan pyramid we just located off-world?”

I grin. “Sounds like something we can handle.”

I later regretted those words when the crystal skull inside the pyramid turned me invisible for a whole week.

  


* * *

_“Fascinating…”_ The woman’s voice is close, and there’s a hand brushing through my hair. The fingers are cold, metallic, even as the palm is warm. Almost like that robot woman we found. Only I don’t hear the click-clank of Replicators.

 _“Heartwarming as that is, doesn’t really tell us what we want to know,”_ the sarcastic voice cuts across the air from some distance away.

 _“He’s been with the program longest, next to Ferretti. And we already debriefed him.”_

The image of Ferretti in a Goa’uld cell, dark hair bloody and face bruised, jumps to the forefront of my mind. The guards are wearing SGC uniforms, and the older one points at me with a, _“Come on, Colonel. Your turn down the rabbit hole.”_  
“Bastard,” I mutter and manage to pry open my left eyelid. I’m lying on a table, not strapped down, and there is a hand in my hair wearing a Goa’uld ribbon device. It’s blocking my view above, but I see the gray-haired man standing across the room, gold emblem almost hidden in the shadow of a ball cap. There’s no insignia on his uniform, but I recognize him. “O’Neill.”

His face scrunches up. _“Damnit, he’s awake.”_

 _“Do not worry my warrior,”_ the woman’s soft voice belies the strength she uses to grip my head. _“He will be resting again.”_ From the palm I feel heat seer straight through my skull and into my brain. The world turns red, and multicolored spots appear in my vision before I can’t control my muscles and my eye snaps shut. _“You should not have resisted.”_

Fuck you. The haze returns, and the heat morphs into a gentle glow that cradles my mind. Fuck you…fuck…well, I’ve fucked a lot of people. Maybe not you specifically, but in general…

 _“I know, beloved. Now, tell us. Tell us of the others you have brought.”_

Brought? Brought where? Seven Gate symbols flash through my mind, too quick to recognize, but I know, somehow, that’s where I am. I brought people?

 _“Yes. You have brought others. Tell me of them. Tell me all you know.”_

I know a lot, but which people? It takes a bit of concentrating, which isn’t as easy as usual, but then I think, of course, Ferretti. And Mitchell. Who else would I bring? Well, the whole team, I suppose.

  


* * *

SG-2 is led by Colonel Louis Ferretti, of course. One of my best friends and maybe the oldest male veteran of the Stargate program. After an incident with a Goa’uld impersonating a First Prime called Imhotep, SG-1 was finally retired—mainly due to a high body count, damned Tok’ra and their idiotic plans—and Teal’c became Ferretti’s second. There was a panicked night where Lou was hiding at my house afraid Teal’c was going to take control of the team, but a quick fuck got that out of his system.

With me, not Teal’c.

After Teal’c, there’s Doctor Nicole Lindsey, an anthropologist who studied under Daniel Jackson prior to his ‘departure.’ Long in the face with her auburn hair always immaculately in a bun, she speaks over ten languages, half of them alien. Ferretti used to tell me how she’d jump at every gunshot, yet would eagerly engage strange natives without concern for her safety. She’s worked closely with Teyla to learn the language of the Ancients, and next to McKay is probably the foremost authority on it.

And then there’s Captain Alicia Vega, a brunette with attitude and an affinity for sticking guns in uncomfortable places. There was a scandal with her a few years back when it was discovered she was a lesbian, and thus potentially susceptible to the hormone spell of the Goa’uld that attacked the SGC before. Ferretti nearly tore Colonel Simmons, the NID lackey that came to investigate the situation, a new hide. He did break the man’s ankle.

I mean, it was very unfortunate that the Colonel tripped down the stairs on his way from debriefing Ferretti. Very clumsy of him. And there was no tampering of security footage at all to support that story.

There’s my team, McKay, Shep, and Teyla. And then there’s SG-13, led by one Major Cameron Mitchell.

Cameron Mitchell. If there were an all around apple-pie eating, football quarterback, American hero stereotype, it’d be him right down to the southern drawl. Dirty blond hair, a sun-kissed tan, and baby blue eyes that twinkle in sync with his white, bright smile. And damn him for making it look sexy, too.

He came into the program to fly the X-301, an experimental craft derived from Goa’uld gliders. The first test flight didn’t go quite so well and he ended up hospitalized for about a year. That’s when Ferretti snapped him up and began prepping him for life at the SGC. We actually didn’t get along at first. He comes off as a bit of a prick at times, but I’ll admit part of it was pure jealousy. It seemed everyone on base wanted a piece of that flyboy.

Well, not Teyla, since she apparently has a fiancé—or the equivalent—waiting for her back on Kheb. McKay wrote him off as well as another “idiotic, testosterone-crazed, scripture-quoting pretty boy.” Direct quote, in front of the man no less. And Shep had his own reasons for his disinterest. Something to do with their relationship prior to the SGC, though what exactly that is I’ve never found out.

I, sadly, was one of the ones who wanted into the man’s pants. Lou accused me of trading him in for a younger model, which led to a drunken debate about Ferretti bringing him on board in the first place and complex Oedipal issues that somehow landed us soliciting undercover police posing as rent boys. That night’s still fuzzy. Except for Carter’s look. I have never seen her so pissed.

Mitchell, unlike Shep, knew he could pull whoever he wanted. He just tended not to. Except off-world, where a joint mission with our teams resulted a mass-team circle-jerk to please our alien diplomats. Mitchell couldn’t get it up, and rather than talk yet another newbie through it, I just reached over and…well, apparently he’d never had a hand job, or the guy had really poor stamina. Either way, that seemed to break whatever tension we had, and we ended up dating for about a month.

Until Teal’c returned with SG-1 on its latest undercover mission, and I was dropped like a hot potato so he could lust after the ex-First Prime. He walked around base with his tongue hanging out, asking Teal’c about Jaffa culture, his fighting style, any and everything he could think of. Suffice to say, shooting him with a zat on another mission was very cathartic. Now, we go out for the occasional drink, and scuttlebutt is he’s asked Teal’c to move in with him off-base.

Not that it’s always been that smooth. When the opening for a leader for SG-13 came up, Lou, Sam, Teal’c, and I were in long negotiations over who should get the promotion. Much as I loved my team, Sheppard had proven his mettle, and he’d earned his own team. The problem was, Lou had the same song with Mitchell. They were almost identical in the evaluation, down to the black mark on their records. Sheppard before joining the SGC, and Mitchell after for conduct unbecoming off-world.

It was not a fun week. Shep kept up a silent staring war whenever he and Mitchell were in a room. Which was awkward, since Mitchell was over-enthusiastic and friendly to Sheppard. And then McKay joined Shep by glaring, which led to Vega pointedly cleaning weapons in the commissary. I had to step in when the marines started to get brutally divided over who to root for in the betting pool. Both Mitchell and Sheppard were beloved members of the SGC, and while Mitchell had more military personnel on his side, the scientists clearly had Sheppard’s back.

It came down to a call from the Vice President. Mitchell’s black mark could be excused in the name of world security. Sheppard’s, it was decided, could not. I was able to squeeze out a promotion for Shep, but I have the feeling he won’t be granted Gateteam privileges until he meets Lieutenant Colonel.

After the promotions ceremony I found him in SG-7’s team room, absently playing that Civilization game he and McKay bicker over. “I’m sorry, Shep.”

He shrugs a shoulder, face impassive. But I know him by now. I recognize the slouch in his chair, and the way his eyebrows are a bit scrunched. He’s upset and a little hurt. “It’s no big deal, Lorne. Next team, right?”

I know for a fact SG-14 through SG-17 are all specialized, and they’re not going to be looking at the premier teams for leaders. Instead, I sit at the computer across from him and flick through the game information. “Right.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then, “I did it to get my friend out. Not because I was sleeping with him.”

He’s referring to his black mark, the one where he disobeyed orders to retrieve fallen soldiers. “That was made clear at your inquiry. Probably why you were going to be returning to extraction duty.” Before I picked him for my team. “The VP’s an ass. And I chose you for my team because of that mark.” Well, that’s only partially true, but he doesn’t need to know that. “You know our motto: we don’t leave people behind. I wanted someone like that for my team.”

He clicks his mouse for a few more minutes as the tension from his slouch melts away. “Thanks,” he says finally. “This is way cooler than flying extractions.” He waits a beat. “Some days I can’t really tell the difference, though.”

I laugh. “I think that’s SG-3’s line,” I say, referring to our large marine-only team who often pulls our asses out of the fire after the fact. Pulling up the main menu, I continue with, “You up for a quick game?”

His eyebrows, no longer trying to push themselves together, actually rise a bit at the challenge in my voice. “You think you can take me on?”

I smirk, almost wishing I had my Indiana hat with me. “I can out-develop you any day of the week, Shep.”

He smirks back. “You’re on.”

He wins, but the scores at the end prove I’m no slouch either. McKay still won’t believe I scored that high without cheating.

When I look back, though, what I end up remembering is how Mitchell’s promotion set the standard for SG-7’s initial interactions with SG-13.

  


* * *

Shortly before Mitchell becomes a Major, I take my team to a potential mining planet called Chaldea. The original samples indicate the planet should have some dense naquadah deposits and the people seemed friendly enough on the initial meet and greet. Unfortunately, when we arrive this time it’s to the villagers staring at a group of Jaffa pointing staff weapons at our heads.

As it turns out, this planet is ruled by a Goa’uld named Qetesh, who was away the last time we visited. She’s slim, pale, with hair of ebony befitting a queen in a painting and eyes of fire that bore into your soul. It’s beautiful, until you take in the glow behind those eyes, the echo in her voice, and the ribbon device on her hand. “More spies from the jealous queen,” are her first words, eyeing our uniforms.

McKay, ever the master of tact, takes one look at her and says not-too-quietly, “Wow. Now I know what you’d look like as a woman.” Despite the situation, Sheppard is able to slap him on the back of his head.

The unfortunate side-effect is for Qetesh to pay closer attention first to McKay, then to Sheppard. “You.” She stands and approaches us. I say us, but she walks by Teyla and myself to stand in front of Sheppard.

He leans his head back as she raises her hand. “Yeah, I’m more a look don’t touch kinda guy.”

She ignores him, tracing a finger over his pointed ear before touching the back of her fingers against his cheek. “This one is right, you are a mirror of us.” She shows off her teeth, looking every bit the shark in sheep’s clothing. “You will make an excellent host for my mate.”

“Hey, whoa!” I raise my hands a little more. “Time out, princess.” She turns on her heel sharply, smile replaced by a frightening glare. “One, let’s not snake my team. And two, just who are you?” I get the butt of a staff weapon to my ribs for my effort, but as I curl around the pain, she does answer.

“I am Qetesh, Goddess of Sacred Ecstasy and Prime Mistress of Ra.” She grabs me by the jaw and jerks my head up. I feel like a slab of meat as she rakes her eyes over me. “A pitiful distraction for a spy of the fallen Queen. Tell me, is she still jealous that I was favored over her?”

“I assure you,” Teyla says quietly, “that we are not spies nor do we serve a queen.”

Qetesh glances at Teyla while still holding onto me. I consider trying to break out of her grip, but I’m willing to bet if I struggle she’ll just crack my jaw between her fingers. “You wear their uniform.”

Fuck. O’Neill and the renegade men have been here too. “Those that serve the queen,” I choke out, “are our enemy.” And I’d really like to know how they’re still wearing our uniforms after all these years.

She laughs, bitter and dark, before tossing me towards McKay. “Take the blue-eyed ones to a cell.” She eyes Sheppard again. “They shall join us once we are ready to implant this one with my mate.”

Sheppard growls, “Like hell, lady,” and tries to rush her. The zat blast hits him just as his fist strikes her personal shield. “Shiii…”

“Sheppard!” McKay looks furious, but I grab hold of his arm and glare at him.

“This is not necessary,” Teyla tries again. “If we could speak-“ Teyla isn’t expecting the backhanded slap, but despite the enhanced strength, she only stumbles twice before regaining her footing.

“Send her to the mines,” Qetesh bites out. “And when you are done,” she sneers, “speaking, you can join those who pay tribute to Lord Camulus.”

Teyla doesn’t touch the bruise blooming on her cheek, but she does look Qetesh directly in the eye as she’s led off by a couple of the Jaffa. As the Goa’uld returns to her throne, the First Prime picks up Sheppard and the rest of the guards herd us towards the prison cells.

There’s only two, made of a dark metal instead of the fancy gold inlay most commonly seen among the Goa’uld. I wait until the guards are gone before checking the door. Locked, and definitely not iron. Maybe even trinium. “Never sees it coming, does he.”

“No, because he’s a fluffy haired short-sighted insensitive,” he cuts himself off with a huff. After a minute of self-hugging, he says, less assertively, “She will wait until we’re there to implant him, right?”

“Most likely.” I’m willing to bet we’re the ritual sacrifice, or whatever you do with blood enemies at the christening of a new host. “Couldn’t keep your mouth shut.”

“Please, even if I hadn’t said anything the snake would’ve taken one look at him and thought, ‘Oh, I must have him on his knees.’”

It’s sadly true. Almost every Goa’uld that’s captured us has wanted Sheppard kneeling before them. I can’t really blame them. I remember what it was like having him in that position before. “It still didn’t help.”

“Well excuse me for making a harmless observation.”

“McKay-“

“Fine, fine.” He shifts his arms just enough so that instead of hugging himself his arms are crossed defiantly. “So what’s the plan?”

Deciding against licking the metal to try and determine its exact composition, I sigh and sit upon the ground. It’s a smaller cell than usual and there’s no bench or bed. “Right now, hope Teyla escapes or that this implantation takes place after our missed check-in time.”

“What?!”

I shrug. “No tools, no equipment,” I knock on the bars, “and unless you learned how to pick alien locks from the inside, we’re stuck until they drag us away.”

“That’s a terrible plan.” He begins pacing the small enclosure. “I can’t believe you’d leave him-“

“I won’t,” I snap back immediately. “I’d take a snake for him. For any of you,” I clarify at his disbelieving gaze. “You’re my team, that means you’re my responsibility. But we’re stuck.” I thump my fist against the bars again. “Look, Goa’uld like to gloat, so they won’t implant him without taunting us unless something goes wrong.” I hold up a finger as he opens his mouth. “Also, Shep’s gotten out of worse situations before. This isn’t the first time he’s been too pretty for his own good.”

McKay snorts at that. “Stupid and mouthy, too.”

“I think all of us except Teyla are guilty of that second sin.” I point to the ground. “Just sit tight. If we aren’t rescued by the time they come fetch us, I’ll think something up to save Sheppard’s ass.” I give him one of my shit-eating grins. “I always do, don’t I?”

As he sits, he grumbles, “If I get another arrow in my ass I’m sticking one in yours,”

“One time, and that’s a little kinky, McKay.” He flushes red at that, but it’s got him distracted, which I count as a win.

While he settles, I review our situation in my head. So far I’ve only counted about a dozen Jaffa. Counting the mines and forces in-town, there’s probably a total of 20 here, maybe a few more if there’s one of their ships lying around. Qetesh mentioned Camulus, who is currently waging war against Ba’al and losing, as I recall, so her resources are probably stretched a bit thin while helping support the war effort. Our supplies are, sadly, back at the Gate, but maybe one or two of the villagers will be on our side.

McKay’s cranky voice interrupts my thoughts. “It’s always him they want to make into their enslaved prince or favored son or breeding stock. Why can’t it be you for once? Or Teyla?”

“One, she’d kick their ass. Two, I went through the degrading missions already.” That time I ended up a ‘pet’ complete with collar and thong still gives Carter the giggles. “And three, I notice you left yourself conveniently out of that list.”

He tilts up his chin. “That’s because they only kidnap me for my brains. And Captain Sheppard never lets them get away with it.” There’s certainty in his gaze, along with an underpinning of fear. “You know, with his leave no one behind protect the civilians,” he waves his hand absently, “motto thing.”

I lean my head against the bars and just let out a long breath through my nose. “Yes, it’s that entirely, and not the immense sexual tension floating around you.” He sits up straighter, his free hand snapping back into his protective crossed arm. “You do know you two are the worst secret on base, right?”

“What secret?” His voice is almost half an octave higher, a sign he’s trying to lie. One of these days Shep has to teach him to bluff. Before the snakes realize the potential vulnerability.

“Look, you’re a civilian, and I happen to think the Spartan theory works great in regards to protecting the team.” His nose wrinkles as he takes on a pinched look. Right, he hates history. Time to simplify for the genius. “I don’t think you two having sex is detrimental. If anything, it’s made you two more aware of the dangers off-world.”

“We, I’m not, you…we’re not having sex!”

Right.” At his flushed face, I shrug. “Look, deny it if you want, but you’re gonna have to live with him being the off-world black dress. Everyone wants him.” I grin. “However, you’re the only one who gets to take him home.” Now his face and his neck are completely red. “And if you haven’t seen him in a little black dress, I have this great picture from his last leave-“

“Yes, thank you I’ve seen it can we talk about something else,” rushes out of his mouth while he’s looking everywhere except at me.

Which is when the Jaffa return to fetch us for the ceremony. On the way, our clothes are not-so-gently removed. Apparently, it’s a nude-only ceremony, except for Qetesh, whose dress wouldn’t count as clothing in at least thirty states. Shep at least gets to keep his pants, though his attention seems to be on avoiding the crotches of the Jaffa holding him down. That effectively kills my fantasies about Teal’c. Those are far too large to be healthy.

McKay, despite his embarrassment, looks furious. “Since when does ‘sacred ecstasy’ mean disturbingly large-“

“Shut it, McKay,” Shep manages to strangle out.

There’s a Jaffa kneeling beside the Goa’uld, and she glides her hand into his pouch. “You have been found worthy,” she intones as she extracts her limb from the Jaffa, “to be a host for the Gods.” In her fist, covered in clear mucus, is a full-grown Goa’uld. She steps closer to the altar Sheppard’s being held on. “I welcome you, husband,” she says to the snake, “to gaze upon your new body.”

Shep, true to form, meets the serpent’s red eyes. “You know, I’m not a big fan of organized religion or slavery or being a host.” I can see him fight a flinch as the thing hisses at him. “I’m more into things that go faster 200 miles an hour, or Ferris wheels.” She takes another step towards him. “So maybe we’re not the best match.” He’s trying to sound calm and confident, but I can see him straining against the hands holding him down.

“Do not worry. Nothing of the host survives.” Her eyes flash as she finally stands over him. “However, in honor of joining us willingly,” she ignores McKay and Shep’s synchronized snorts, “we will allow you to keep one of your previous team members as your Lo’taur.” She smirks. “The other shall partake in our consummation.”

“Sounds like fun,” I bite out. The Jaffa beside me squeezes on my collarbone until it’s nearly broken. From Qetesh’s sneer, I can tell she hopes it’s me. My money’s still on ritual sacrifice post-sex. The Goa’uld seem like snuff fans.

She’s about to place the parasite down when McKay yells, “Wait!”

She pauses, tilting her head. “Why?”

McKay’s still opening and closing his mouth, and I try to think as fast as he does to get Shep out of this, when a silver grenade rolls into the room. Everyone stares at it, including Sheppard, before it goes off and we’re all knocked out by the stun light.

I wake up a few hours later to Jay Elliott’s carrot-top head above me, followed along with his grin and, a moment later, my uniform, which falls on my face. “Welcome back, sir.”

“Elliott,” I say. I got over the nakedness issue a while back, but it’s different in front of snakes. Makes me feel a bit too vulnerable. As I put my clothes on I glance around for a sit-rep. Shep is off the altar, still unconscious, and McKay is hovering over him, his fingers tracing every bit of visible skin. He, I notice, has already gotten dressed. The Jaffa are all missing, as is Qetesh and Teyla. “Not that I’m not glad to see you,” I say, pulling on my shirt.

“I’m here with a small extraction team. We’ve been after Qetesh for a while.” His voice gains an echo as Selmak takes over. “She has been Camulus’ greatest asset in the war against Ba’al. Without her support and counsel, he’ll be forced to approach the System Lords for assistance.”

Which may create a small civil war between the Goa’uld, one of the Tok’ra’s main goals in their great scheme of how to rid the galaxy of snakes. “So Teyla found you in the mines?”

The wide grin is entirely Jay’s as he resumes command of his voice. “Actually, she talked the locals into rebelling. It was really impressive. We’ve been after them for months.” He hands over my P90 as he pauses. “Of course, Qetesh’s last round of executions for not meeting quota probably helped a bit, too.”

Probably. “And Sheppard?”

“The tok’kal was successful in incapacitating the symbiote before it could burrow into Captain Sheppard’s body.” I glance at McKay, and Selmak rejoins the conversation. “For some reason, Doctor McKay refuses to believe that fact, despite Teyla and myself assuring him of the situation.”

I shrug. McKay can have his moment for now. “Did you find the rest of our supplies?”

“Yes, including the top half of Sheppard’s uniform.” Elliott hands it all over, and I quietly drop Shep’s clothing beside McKay. He glares at me, but refuses to let his hands leave Sheppard’s body. Understandable. With a quick nod, my former teammate follows me out of the main chamber, where I find the villagers speaking with Teyla. “She has been an excellent advisor to the local elders on how to build an independent world.”

From where I stand, I can just make out that she’s offering to open trade relations with this world and some of our allies. I do like how she thinks. “And the Jaffa?”

“There were not many, and Qetesh does not keep a ship in orbit. I suspect they will be hunted out by sunset.” Selmak tilts Jay’s head. “Would she consent to join us for some additional missions? Her skill for diplomacy is almost unparalleled.”

I shake my head. “Sorry, ‘Mak. Teyla’s grown rather fond of us.”

“And while your fight is admirable,” she says after approaching us silently, “you are still a symbiotic species, one who must achieve Enlightenment through your host, rather than yourselves. Once you have transcended this limitation,” she offers Selmak her trademark enigmatic smile, “perhaps roads currently lost will reveal themselves again.” She passes by us and into the altar room, probably to pull McKay out of his head. Next to Shep, she’s the one person he really listens to.

Elliott rubs the back of his head. “I never get what she means.”

I chuckle. “I’ll see if Carter will authorize some joint missions soon.” Looking around at the women helping men wash the grime of the mines off, I finally focus on the big question. “So where’s Qetesh?”

“Selmak’s associates are extracting her, and she will be brought to the Tok’ra to face her crimes. As Ra’s old mistress, it’s quite an extensive list.” He glances down, and while that’s usually a sign the symbiote’s taking over, in this case, he retains his own voice. “Actually, Colonel, I was wondering if I could ask a favor.”

“You just saved our asses, Jay.”

“Yeah, but,” he coughs, “this is kind of…up there.” At my raised eyebrow, a light blush highlights the freckles on his cheeks. “After Qetesh’s last punishment and all the time she’s forced the people to mine themselves to death, the natives will want payback. And they don’t quite understand that Qetesh may have done it, but her host, well…”

“Her host had no choice in the matter,” I finish. It wouldn’t surprise me if the Chaldeans did take their revenge out on the woman. She was, after all, the face of their evil overlord. “You’d like me to take her back with us.”

“You can always drop her off on another planet, or send her to live elsewhere. But the first couple weeks can be difficult, especially since this host was only enslaved about a decade.”

I cross my arms. “And she can’t go with you because?”

Jay coughs again. “The, uh, the Tok’ra have a policy on not interfering with the host’s life once the Goa’uld has been removed. They believe recovery goes best when there’re no symbiotes around to set off the naquadah in their bloodstream.”

In other words, they don’t want to clean up the psyche mess Goa’ulds leave once stripped away from their hosts. Great. “They do know that hosts are basically rape victims. They need help.”

He’s rubbing the back of his neck again and keeps staring at the ground. “The resources available to the Tok’ra won’t allow-“

“Bullshit.”

He slumps as he lets out a sigh, looking far older than his twenty-six years of age. “I know, Lorne, I know.” He wipes a hand over his face. “Selmak and I have argued about it. Especially after my sister…” He shuts his eyes, and I squeeze his shoulder in support. “Just…can you take her? At least I’ll know I got help for one of them.”

Sam’ll be pissed, not to mention the Joint Chiefs. Well, they’ll just have to suck it up. “Can the others get her hidden under a robe and meet us at the Stargate?” He nods, then bites his lip. I lower my voice, as if this is private even though Selmak is in his head. “She’s still in the hospital ward, but your aunt says she’s getting better. She’s even started to smile again.”

That earns me a pleased quirk of the lips. “Really?”

“Yeah. The doctors think they’ve finally found the right combo of meds.”

“Good, that’s…that’s good.” He reaches up to cover my hand with his. “Thanks, for keeping up with her.”

“I promised I would.” And I rarely break promises. I wasn’t able to keep the one to Ford’s cousin personally, but I did let her know the bastard who led to his addiction was killed. Not much closure, but it was something. After a minute like that, I finally pull my hand back and straighten my tac vest. “How long does extraction usually take?”

He takes a deep breath. “It shouldn’t be more than another hour. Your team can wait by the Gate. Once Doctor McKay’s finished doing…whatever he’s doing.”

Teyla, returning just as silently as before, answers with, “He’s finished and is helping John get dressed. We should be ready to depart to the Gate soon.”

Jay nods. “Great, I’ll just,” he hooks a thumb over his shoulder, “let the others know the plan.”

As he walks away, I lower my voice and say, “You’ve got to teach me how you do that.” She laughs, light yet full. It’s contagious, and I’m grinning by the time she finishes. “I heard about the mining caves. Great work.”

“They are a people in pain. While pain is a part of the Path, too much leads to imbalance.” She nods to Shep and McKay as they exit the temple. “And the Ancestors teach us to bring those lost back to the right Path.”

“Hey, hey,” McKay says testily, “no Path or Ancestors talk. That’s for our meditation time only, and it’s not Thursday.”

“For you,” Teyla counters. “However, the teachings of Oma and the sutras of Ascension are something to be reflected upon in all moments of contemplation.”

“Well, moment’s over. I want off this backwater world, mining potential or not.”

Shep, I notice, is uncharacteristically quiet and on guard, eyeing the Chaldeans while gripping his weapon tightly. “Right,” I command. “Back to the Gate. The Tok’ra will meet us there.” Teyla takes a moment to let the elders know of our departure, and they smile and wave us off, not even requiring an escort. I let out a mental breath. One less issue for sneaking the ex-Goddess off the world.

“We shall send a team,” Teyla says as we’re walking away, “to continue our negotiations.”

“We look forward to it,” one of the elders says, waving a cloth at us before using it to wipe his face. I make sure to wave back one last time before we turn away from the village and onto the main path to the Gate.

Jay and the Tok’ra are waiting for us, along with the host. She looks frail and shaken, flinching even as Teyla approaches her calmly. I have McKay dial the DHD and try to catch Shep’s eye. I fail, mainly since he refuses to look at anyone directly right now. I’ll have to deal with that on the other side. The wormhole establishes itself, and I give McKay a little nudge. “Right, you two first.” I look over to Jay. “See ya around.”

He beams at me. “Good to see you again, sir.”

“Back ‘atcha.” I exchange a quick glance with Teyla, then step through to warn the marines on the other side of our extra visitor.

  


* * *

I’m right, Carter is pissed, but the woman—one Vala Mal Doran—manages to overcome her initial shock and hides her pain beneath a shallow, almost teenage-like veneer that drives half the base nuts and the other half…well, also nuts, but a more positive version of crazy.

Everyone except Shep, who I finally pull away from McKay via baseball tickets. After his fifth beer he glares at his empty cup and says, “I’m transferring to another team.”

“What, because of McKay?”

He glares harder, crushing the plastic between his fingers. “We’re a liability.”

“Doesn’t seem that way to me.”

“Colonel-“

“Lorne.”

“Evan,” he snarls, “just transfer me to SG-2 or something.”

“So Ferretti can use you like a human spitball? Like hell I will.” By this point, we’re both ignoring the game. “You and McKay, what you’ve got has made you better in the field, not worse.”

He purses his lips. “He was terrified.”

I roll my eyes. “Rodney’s always terrified. He just shoulders his way through it.”

He grabs my beer and finishes it off. After another strike out, his hand shakes. “I was terrified.”

It’s almost a whisper, and I don’t believe I heard right. Shep isn’t one to admit his feelings. “What?”

“If that…thing got in me, it would’ve hurt him.” Now he looks at me, eyes partially glazed and bloodshot, the only sign that he hasn’t been sleeping well. “It would know how to hurt him, use him, and I knew, I knew it would make me break him. To take his genius and passion and just…just bend it until he would do anything, anything for me.”

I’m still a bit too stunned to respond, which is apparently fine.

“I know because she promised he would,” he says. “She said he’d find my deepest, darkest loves and twist them. That he was the God of Sadism.” His laugh isn’t self-deprecating as much as it is broken. “And I wouldn’t have been able to stop him.” He drops the empty cups and grabs my shoulders. “That’s why I have to transfer. If I ever did anything like that to him, to you, to Teyla…”

He’s breathing harshly and wobbles a bit as he pushes against me. Carefully, I stand up, pulling him along as well. It isn’t hard to bring him out of the stadium, the game being not even half-over. I push him into the SUV and get behind the wheel. I don’t start the car just yet. “Shep, we all know the risks, what could happen if a snake gets us.”

He shakes his head and slumps more than slouches in his seat. “But if I did that to Rodney…”

“He’d fight you.”

“They’d torture him.”

“He’d still fight. McKay’s stronger than he looks.”

He clenches his fists, glaring at them. “Not with me. I know his…his vulnerabilities. I know they’d find a way to make him break.”

“You act like I’d let you have a snake in your head that long.” Slowly, his neck lolls in my direction. “We don’t leave people behind, remember? I’d make sure the snake didn’t do much damage. To either of you,” I emphasize.

“They’d kill you.”

“Ferretti’d come after you then. Hell, so would Carter.” I shove my fist against his shoulder. “Christ, it’s not like you’re alone in this. We protect and save each other. It’s what the SGC’s best at.”

He turns his attention back towards the dashboard. After a minute of silence, he says, “It could’ve been worse.”

“But it wasn’t. And we saved a host in the process.” He scowls at that. He and Mal Doran haven’t gotten along much, though they’ve also avoided each other at all costs thus far. “So stop with the protective martyr act and just focus on this: you and Rodney? Are good together. You’re happier, he yells less, and it gives you both an edge in the field.”

A flicker of a smile appears. “We are that good.”

“Yeah. So no more sulking or thoughts of transferring, got it Captain?”

“Sir, yes sir,” he slurs. Then, “I think I’m gonna pass out now.”

“I’ll alert the media.” I start the car and head for Rodney’s apartment. He can deal with the fallout. I’ve done my bit. He’ll have to work out the thing with Mal Doran on his own.

He does eventually sort it out, though I’m not sure how, because six months later, when Mitchell is promoted and selects Vala as one of SG-13’s team members, it’s a complete non-issue.

  


* * *

About two months after Lou returned from Tollana with news of a Goa’uld attack, the SGC receives a request for help from Pellor, a previously unheard of world. With SG-2 away and the urgency behind the call, I tell Carter to get the coordinates and prep my team. McKay is, naturally, thrilled. He’d made one trip to Tollana, got into a fierce debate with their chief scientist, Omac, and was banned from ever returning. He still says it’s one of the best missions he’s ever been on.

Pellor does not have the sprawling, university-esque architecture that was found on Tollana, however. It’s obviously a colony world, with squat marble buildings huddled together surrounding a small, fading garden. A quick look behind the white Stargate—“Smaller than ours,” I hear Shep mutter—explains the compact nature of the structures. There’s a row of ion canons and a shield just a few feet away. Beyond that is a more familiar Tollan layout, save for the fact that the gardens are burning, the houses are rubble, and hundreds of Jaffa are marching behind their own shield system, currently being pelted by ion energy.

There’s the sound of a charging weapon, followed by a high-pitched, “No, stop! They’re Tau’ri!”

“Narim?!” Rodney sounds shocked. “Carter’s convinced you’re dead!”

The man, just a bit shorter than Shep, looks emaciated from hunger, hair stringy and damp, and his eyes are ringed by dark circles. “I almost was.” He looks to the man with the gun, a triangular weapon all Tollan security possess. “I was able to maneuver the last escaping vessel from the planet away from the bombardment. Unfortunately, the Goa’uld Tanith has taken what’s left of Tollana as his own, seeking our technology.”

The guard, I note, is well over six foot tall and dark skinned, wearing the sleeveless metallic-looking armor without the traditional uniform beneath it. His hair is tied back in dreadlocks and there’s even a tattoo on his neck, something I’ve never seen before with this race. He grunts as he notices my staring, but doesn’t say anything.

“My apologies,” Narim continues. “This is Ronon Dex, head of the Ministry of Security on Pellor.” His shoulders drop. “Not that there’s much security left.”

“Spent a lot of resources building this,” the giant finally says, waving his weapon at the Stargate. “Narim thinks you can get the Goa’uld off our world.”

I get the impression he’s not talking about Tollana. “We’ve had some success with fighting them off,” I reply as neutrally as I can. Ferretti’s report stated that the ion canons no longer breached the shields of Goa’uld ships. I’m willing to bet the continual assault by the weapons is the only thing keeping the army from marching against the remaining colony. “What’re we looking at?”

Narim starts to speak, then stops, shaking his head. “I...about a hundred Tollan. The rest….the rest didn’t make it. The nutrition dispensers are almost out of power, and while our energy reserves are holding, we don’t have the resources to build more.”

“Would have if we hadn’t built this,” Dex sneers.

“Hey, this Gate might be your only ticket out of this war-infested hellhole so be grateful you had a scientist with the brilliance to complete it, otherwise you’d be snake bait in a week!”

The grin Dex gives McKay is one of the most predatory things I’ve ever seen. Shep immediately steps forward, and the soldiers square off in some sort of silent match. I leave it to my Major and turn my attention to Narim. “Why haven’t you evacuated, now that you have the Stargate?”

“This is…was our biggest colony.” He ducks his head. “The others have as many resources as us, perhaps less, but are not yet under attack. I sent coded messages, telling them to bury their Stargates, in case the Goa’uld find their addresses.”

Teyla steps between Dex and Shep to stand beside me. “Narim, they will still send their ships. With the Stargate, they may be able to pool their resources, form a new home world.”

He shakes his head. “We can’t, not until we have a way to fight off the Goa’uld. We have few defenses without the ion canons.”

McKay is already pulling out his tablet computer, brand new off the production line. “That’s where we’ll start, then. I assume you have a command post with the technical schematics?”

Narim hesitates, but nods. “I know we are asking for help, but…our greatest rule…”

Ah yes, the greatest rule, the one where they can’t share their technology with less advanced species for fear it’ll be misused. “How about whatever we learn we can take back.”

“Colonel!”

I glare at McKay. “They lost their home world, McKay. I’m not going to make them sacrifice their principles for help.” At that, he looks a little contrite. Dex nods, though he has yet to break eye contact with Sheppard. “Besides, the ion canons are useless now.”

Rodney snorts. “Not like Goa’uld share their technology, could still be useful…” He continues to mutter as he follows Narim. Shep doesn’t break his staring contest, but he does follow behind McKay by walking backwards.

I let it go on for a minute before stepping between their lines of sight. Unfortunately, I’m far shorter than Dex, but that doesn’t mean I can’t capture his attention. “Mister Dex.” He still looks above my head, so I growl firmly, “Security Minister Ronon Dex.”

That gets his attention. He actually straightens up a bit at the use of his title. “Colonel Lorne.”

I nod to the shield. “You tried contacting the Nox?”

“Nox haven’t responded.”

Teyla frowns. “I can contact Kheb and have Jinto get in contact with Lya. Perhaps they have a less volatile resolution to this conflict.”

Dex frowns at her. “You can’t reason with Goa’uld.” He charges his weapon. “Just gotta kill ‘em.”

He’s definitely rougher than your typical Tollan. “There’s nothing wrong with getting some backup.”

“The Nox aren’t backup. Pacifists have no place in war.”

Teyla’s eyebrow rises sharply. “Pacifists can still defend not just themselves, but others.”

“Through deceit. Like those damned ascended creatures. Hiding when they could help.”

“H’okay, let’s stick a pin in that. Especially since the Tollan refuse to help others.”

He bears his teeth. “We don’t hide.”

“Except behind your technology.”

Wow, that’s the first time I’ve heard Teyla actually snap at someone. I quickly step between the aliens before they come to blows. “Let’s leave the ideological debate until AFTER the Jaffa invasion!” As if to emphasize the point, an al’kesh flies overhead and launches a wave of energy mines at the shield. The flare of purple is comforting, until I notice actual holes in the field before it fades to its near-invisible state again. “Shit. What’s keeping that shield up?”

In answer, one of the eight buildings of the colony goes completely dark. The lights in the others flicker. It’s not very reassuring. Nor is the fact that the ion canons get five direct hits, and the Goa’uld shields don’t even fluctuate. I wipe the back of my hand against my forehead. “Fucking Christ…” This is definitely bigger than we initially thought.

“We should get inside,” Teyla says, eyes on the al’kesh as it turns in an arc. “Perhaps Rodney has discovered a way to enhance the shields.”

I turn to Dex. “Your communication hub, can it reach Earth without the Stargate?” At his blank look, I let out a huff that sounds eerily like McKay. “You’re Tollan. You know about the technology, right?”

“Yeah,” he sounds put-off at my tone. “But the communication center just went dark.”

I look back at the darkened building, and at the people carrying equipment out of it. “Right. Let’s go see if the Doc can pull a miracle or ten out of thin air.”

It takes less than five minutes to reach the main compound. Some of the other security personnel are wearing their traditional uniform, now filthy, torn, and burnt. Others have forgone uniforms altogether, instead wearing what’s available. They’re all sporting the triangular hand-held energy weapons. “What about your phasing technology. Will that protect you?”

“Not many of us have it on Pellor.” Dex raises his wrist, to show his own armband-mounted control unit, now burnt beyond recognition. “The rest went to help build the Stargate.”

Right. The last, best hope against an invading horde. “We could use some Tok’ra infiltrators about now,” I mutter.

“I believe the Asgard would be more beneficial,” Teyla quietly replies as we pass through the archway into the command center.

She doesn’t know it, but according to Teal’c the last encounter with an unknown Goa’uld system lord resulted in Thor running from the Goa’uld ship, unable to penetrate the shields with his weapons. Whoever this mysterious snake is, he’s making advancements that could spell doom for more than just this galaxy.

Rodney is pouring over a large glass screen projecting equations, schematics, and, of all things, star charts. He’s also yelling at the Tollan scientists bringing equipment in. Shep wanders over, trying to meet Dex’s eyes again, but a snap has his attention on me. “He know what he’s doing?”

He actually smirks at that. “He may be the brightest man here, next to Narim.” At my raised eyebrow, he nods his chin at the scuttling scientists. “We’re on a planet within the Tollana system, typically used for automated mining and farming. They’ve got lots of specialists and a few generic geniuses from the home world, but none of them know how to MacGyver non-integrated systems together.”

I hear another round of energy bombs and the high whine of the ion canons firing. “What about the shield?”

Shep points to Narim at another console. Dex has made his way over there, looking over his shoulder and speaking quietly to the man. “Rodney has him diverting power and trying to evacuate everyone to this building. It’s closest to the Stargate, so if he can shrink the shield and boost it with power from the other structures…”

Buying time. Rodney’s so good at it I could kiss him. “Dex thinks the Nox are out for calling for backup, but I bet if we called the Asgard for an extraction they’d save as many Tollan as possible.”

Shep shakes his head. “I looked at the system scans. Tanith has about a dozen ha’taks patrolling the system. They wouldn’t be able to get a ship in and out without taking damage. Besides, Narim says they can’t leave Tollana in Goa’uld hands.”

“Have to agree with you there.” If they ever reverse-engineered the phasing technology, our iris would be useless. “Suggestions?”

Shep shares a quick look with Teyla, who nods. “Evacuation would be best, but Rodney’s cut power to the Stargate.”

“He’s what?”

“He says he can get it back,” Sheppard says quickly, “but he says his first priority has to be the shield.”

Right. “So what do we do?”

“Sheppard,” McKay yells from his position, glaring over his shoulder. He points to a screen beside him. “If you’re done comparing diaries I need you doing something actually useful!”

Shep rolls his eyes, but he half-jogs across the room. “You could just ask, McKay.”

“You’d find that boring. Now check the math. Let me know if there’s ever a 4.8 percent or greater gradient shift.”

“Sure thing, Einstein.”

Well, that takes care of those two. Dex, I notice, has left Narim to help the scientists move some of the equipment around. I’m about to offer to help when I see Teyla walking towards the corner of the building, away from all the Tollan. After a quick pro-con review, I go after her and lean against the wall, arms crossed. It’s easy to watch her as she watches the Tollan. After two minutes of silence, I shift my shoulders against the marble. “Lillian says the boys loved that quilt you made them.”

She bows her head, a smile flashing across her lips before vanishing once again. “You are attempting small talk, and it’s not something I wish to indulge in at this time.” She takes out her bantos rods and rolls them between her palms. It’s a meditative gesture, I’ve learned, one she rarely needs nowadays. “The Tollan philosophy has always…unsettled me. More so than your world.”

I grimace at that. Since joining the team, we’ve all made an effort to embrace some cross-cultural boundaries. Shep, I know, has Teyla train him on how to fight with bantos rods. In return, he’s taught her about various Earth fighting styles and a bit about their culture geographically. McKay’s been teaching her about our technology, the origins as well as modern applications, from the abacus to the computer. And she, somehow, has convinced him to meditate with her twice a week, to help him achieve an inner calm and perhaps find a better path.

And with me, she shares the history of the Ancestors, their stories, how her people became guardians, how some left to found a rogue Jaffa nation centuries ago, about The Darkness ascending a thousand years ago, and about Oma Desala, who occasionally walks among them. Initially, I offered to return the favor by teaching her how to paint, but instead, she came to me with questions. How societies worked on Earth, obscure references from movies or history she didn’t understand, the difference between ham and Canadian bacon. Our greatest discussion, still on-going, is philosophy. After getting out of the service post-war, my dad became a PhD on the subject, so I’ve picked up quite a bit in my life.

One of our points of contention is the advancement of technology and its effect on the sutras of Ascension. Teyla is a firm believer that while advanced technology proves beneficial, it’s easier to follow the Path with minimal technological interference. I, naturally, have to play devil’s advocate, usually regarding the threat of the Goa’uld, but also civil wars and political disagreements.

It’s no surprise to me that the Tollan are rubbing her the wrong way. Another stance I’ve taken is that technology is a Path to take, as the Ancients did long ago. But can understanding the universe really bring Enlightenment? As I look around the room, at the lost, almost broken aliens, it’s easy to see why Teyla’s such an advocate against high technological integration with society.

Nonetheless, they are allies, though I also have a more practical view than Dex and the others. “I think you’re right. In the end, they’ll have to evacuate. Nox, Asgard, another Tollan colony. Somewhere. Even if we retake the planet, they’ll just bombard it from orbit.”

“Unless Rodney can get the weapons back online.” There’s a conflicted tone in her voice. “The sutras tell us all life is sacred, but that violence is sometimes necessary for defense. Oma has demonstrated this many times.”

Teal’c brought back pictures of the electrified Jaffa. “Yet you feel uncomfortable.”

“Twice now the Tollan have nearly left the Path. Once you saved them. Perhaps this time, you should allow them to move beyond.”

“Teyla…”

She presses her palms to the wooden rods. “We all leave the Path, Colonel Lorne. Some willingly, some not. Their first world was brought to ash.” She looks over at the screens, one of which is now showing Tollana, dark and marred with volcanoes. “Their second world has ended the same way. It is an Earth saying, I believe? Once is coincidence, twice is not.”

“It is.” I listen to the bombing above and run a hand over my P90. “But I’m not going to judge them worthy of death or not. That’s the Path Goa’uld prefer.” She hums in response, a sign I know means she’s done with the topic for now. I settle in beside her and wait for McKay to whip out that miracle. Judging by Narim’s increasingly anxious look, the al’kesh are having a more significant impact on the shields than he initially thought.

It’s another twenty minutes of echoing impacts and flickering lights before McKay lets out a heaving sigh. We all know that sigh. That’s the ‘I can do something, but you might not like it,’ one. I head over at the same time as Minister Dex. Teyla, rather than following, moves towards the door. She’s a good judge on visual situations, she’ll let us know if the shield is beginning to fail before the systems register, most likely. “What’ve you got, Doc?”

McKay continues writing lines of code into the computer system, but his reflection on the screen offers a crooked smile. “I figured out the Goa’uld shield system. They used to be based on high-speed harmonic oscillations. What made them vulnerable was that mono-frequency oscillations can be penetrated by charged ions with greater vibrations. That and the origin of the shielding system was one generator for the entire ship.”

Shep leans against the console beside McKay, hands resting on his weapon. “So Rodney got your sensors up and running to take a look, see if he could find the new oscillation.”

Narim looks pleased, but his hands are still clasped tightly together. “And you’ve found a weakness?”

“Well,” the smile vanishes from his reflection and he ducks his head, “unfortunately, what I found is that this new shield design is based on emitters, like the Asgard. Instead of one generator and one shield, it’s multiple shield emitters each with slightly different oscillations, all interlocked together. It actually dissipates the energy-potential of non-ballistic weapons.”

“Along with creating a very effective physical barrier,” I finish. He nods.

Dex lets out a growl. “So what, we just sit here until the power runs out?”

The glare McKay shoots him has been known to frighten scientists. He’s honed it while off-world to make even aliens flinch. It’s rather impressive, seeing the six-foot muscle man actually take a step back from the force of it. “I’m a genius,” he says, “so of course I have a better plan.”

“Rodney,” Shep says warningly.

“Fine, sort of a plan.” He types in a command and the picture of death gliders leaving their bays appears. “Despite having a shield, the Gliders can move freely between the barrier. They’re emitting a specific electromagnetic configuration to phase through.”

“But we don’t have any phasing devices left,” Narim protests.

McKay lets out a long-suffering huff. “We don’t need it. With your sensors I can get a read on that EM-key and modify your weapons so the ionic energy travels in the exact same spectrum.”

That has Narim and many of the Tollan grinning, relieved. I’m not. I know that tone, and I know that posture. This may solve the weapons problem, but it won’t win the day.

Dex picks up on it as well. He’s looking over the ion canon schematics and says, low enough that most of the room can’t hear, “You don’t think it’ll be enough to win.”

McKay hesitates, then shakes his head. “Modifying your hand weapons should be easy enough. But even with the shield reduced in size, I only have time to adjust one canon.”

“One is all we need,” says Narim confidently.

“Not exactly,” Shep stands up. “Once they realize what’s happened, they’ll change the harmonics and EM-key. It’s not a long-term solution.” The hope in the room dies with his proclamation. “But it gives us what we need.”

“And what’s that?”

“Time,” Dex answers, before anyone else can. “You want us to evacuate, leave Pellor and Tollana in the hands of the Goa’uld.”

“Maybe not in their hands,” Shep says and looks at me. “Remember P3W-451?”

How could I forget? Earth nearly got sucked into a black hole and it’s only because Ferretti and Colonel Cromwell nearly killed themselves setting off an explosive that our asses got saved. “How’s that fit in? Dialing the Stargate here cuts off our escape.”

“Ah,” Rodney holds up a finger, grinning again, “but if we can get the communication system up and running, we can dial the Tollana Gate.”

“That would only delay them thirty-eight minutes.”

I shake my head at Narim. “Not quite. 451 is a Stargate on a world by a black hole. A time-dilation effect would emerge and it would slowly consume the planet until it was all sucked through the wormhole or, well, the planet implodes.” I’ve seen the models. It’s not a pretty way to go. Can’t think of anything more fitting for someone as vile and smug as Tanith.

“That is,” Narim considers, “rather brilliant. But even if we get the communication grid operational and modify the canon, where would we go?”

“Not to Earth,” Dex definitely growls, glaring at us. Obviously he heard about the Tollan’s last trip there.

“We can figure that out later,” McKay says. “The shield’s running out of energy and we’re going to have to collapse it even further if we’re to have the time we need. Narim,” he snaps and points at the man, “get the communication panel running. It may take a few tries to actually dial in if the snakes are using it.”

Narim nods, then waves to a few of the scientists and they huddle around the salvaged equipment.

The finger moves next to Minister Dex. “John’s looked over your weapons. He can help you begin to modify your handhelds to be adapted to the EM-key, once I have it. Think you can modify a small arsenal?”

“I’m Tollan,” is all he says in reply, though with a shark-like grin. At a sharp whistle, some of the other security personnel approach. Shep rests a hand on McKay’s shoulder, then steps to another table with the men.

“Lorne,” McKay says, “We’ll be reducing the shield to encompass this building, the closest canon, and the Stargate. Can you coordinate-“

“The scientists and extraction of equipment? No prob, Doc.” He scowls at the nickname. “How about you?”

“I’ll be getting the EM-key, then heading out to the canon to modify it.”

“Not alone.” This time I whistle. Teyla turns towards us, and I jerk my thumb at McKay. “Can you cover him?” At her inclined head, I glance back to the scientist.

He coughs. “Right, well, I guess that’s safest.”

“Damn straight. And McKay,” I wait until he’s looking at me, “great work.” He blushes at the praise, and I leave before he can reply, waving as many of the civilians over as possible.

The plan goes off with only a few minor hitches. The al’kesh is able to damage the shield enough to nearly wipe out the nearest canon, sending Shep running for McKay before the man radios that they’re fine. Dialing the Tollana Gate takes all of five minutes once they cannibalize the food synthesizer to get the communication system working. And I have to admit, watching that first blast of ion energy wipe out a whole contingent of Jaffa is satisfying on an almost orgasmic level.

But if McKay’s right, this is a one-trick pony, and we need to make the most of it. “You got targeting up and running?”

“I’m already rearming it to get the al’kesh and the ha’tak in orbit,” McKay says, typing on his tablet as we run towards the Stargate. The Tollan are now exiting the building en masse, all of them carrying equipment of some sort, except for Dex and the security personnel, who are guiding them. Shep, I notice, is staying by the Minister, talking to him as they lead the aliens towards the Stargate. “Any idea where we should go?”

I’ve been wracking my brain. The Alpha Site seems like the best bet, until Teyla clears her throat. “I believe Cimmeria would be the most advantageous.”

I raise my eyebrow, but McKay’s already nodding his head. “Right, right, the Hammer’ll evict any Goa’uld that tries to follow us.”

“And we have already successfully contacted the Asgard through the Hall of Thor’s Might. We should be able to do so again.”

Again, McKay’s already on the same page. “Right, they couldn’t help now, but any race able to build a Stargate can probably help them with their war on the Replicators.”

I scratch behind my ear as Teyla begins dialing Cimmeria. “You want to relocate the Tollana to another galaxy?”

“Their Path and the Path of the Asgard are quite similar. Perhaps by meeting, new roads to travel will appear.” She activates the Stargate calmly, despite the rounds of staff blasts impacting the shield not a couple yards away.

That’s a good point. The Asgard have also mentioned a cloning glitch. Maybe the Tollan can offer some insight into that as well. “That’s good thinking, Teyla.”

She smiles, the enigmatic one that means I’m missing something, usually in the greater scheme of things. I don’t have time to think about it, though, as the Tollan follow Teyla through the Stargate and away from yet another dying world.

  


* * *

Narim accepts Teyla’s proposal easily enough, contacting the remaining Tollan colonies to prepare for departure to another galaxy. There’s some dissent amongst them, but as the last living member of the Curia, Narim is able to convince them otherwise.

Almost all of them. “You’re sure, Ronon,” Narim asks. “Earth is very…limited. They may not welcome you.”

“You know my feelings about Asgard,” he rumbles. “And someone needs to stay, make sure the Goa’uld are wiped out.”

“We are supposed to be above that.” The reproval is clear in Narim’s tone.

“Obviously not.” Dex crosses his arms. He doesn’t, I notice, relinquish his weapon despite turning over the rest of the technology he had on him. “The Tau’ri found a way to fight when we couldn’t. Seems like we could learn something.”

I can tell Narim’s trying not to be rude after we just saved the last of their race, and he finally is able to swallow whatever Tollan pride is left. “Very well. We shall send you a Stargate address should you ever wish to return home.”

Somehow I doubt that’ll happen. After Thor picks up the Tollan and promises to contact us once they’re resettled, we return to Earth to report the situation. I speak with Sam and we get authorization to send a tactical nuke through the Pellor Gate, to make sure any remaining technology isn’t scavenged. It’s not pleasant, but there’s no guarantee the black hole will continue to expand once Tollana is consumed. This way, at least, we’re sure there’s nothing for the Goa’uld.

Teal’c and Ronon meet over blueberry pie in the Mess Hall, stare at one another, and immediately retreat to the gym. Later I hear of some hefty bets regarding the outcome, of which Shep commandeered. “Betting’s illegal,” he says, sporting a brand new high-end leather jacket.

McKay snorts, but he’s wearing a matching version, so obviously they shared the ill-gotten gains. I wag my finger at them both. “Terrible, and I’m reporting you to Carter.”

Rodney continues eating the meatloaf lunch and rolls his eyes. “We got ones for you and Teyla.”

“Still terrible people, but appreciated.” Shep just grins at me, wide and shit-eating.

I never do find out what the results of their sparing match are, nor the one Ronon has with Teyla about a week later. Mitchell, however, seems to get word of it, and asks Ronon to join SG-13 immediately after Vala, giving him a member with extreme knowledge of the Goa’uld, and muscle able to understand advanced technology. I’d be jealous if I didn’t have Teyla and McKay, both of which outshine them, as far as I’m concerned.

Since two aliens on one team is unusual, it doesn’t surprise me that Carter assigns the last two members to SG-13 herself. Unfortunately, it’s after both of them have moved to the top of Rodney’s shit-list, right under Senator Kinsey. I knock on Sam’s door, and she smiles as I enter, obviously giving her a much needed break. After closing up the office I sit on the edge of the desk, my thigh almost touching the important red phone.

“What can I do for you, Lorne?”

“Just wondering if the ability to annoy Rodney was the main reason you assigned Cadman and Hailey to SG-13.”

She laughs, and I chuckle, though it’s definitely fake. McKay’s earned respect. Hell, he saved the Tollan, the smartest human-like race we’ve encountered. Sure, Shep gets to annoy him, and Teyla and I tease him, but we’re team. Strangers doing it triggers a bit of a protective streak in me. Fortunately, after serving with me for a year and innumerable unofficial meetings, she picks up on my vibes pretty quickly. “Sorry, it’s just, McKay…”

“I know.” Like I said, we tease him all the time.

She leans back in her chair, interlacing her fingers together against her stomach. “That wasn’t the reason, but it was a contributing factor.” At my raised eyebrow, she shrugs. “Hailey’s smart. She can keep up with me, but has problems when someone challenges her. Sound familiar?”

I cross my arms. Rodney’s evolved a bit from when he first joined the team. “So you’re giving her a glimpse of her future?”

“Kind of. SG-13 needs a scientist, and Earth one,” she adds after I’m about to remind her of Ronon’s knowledge. “But she needs to know she’s not always right. McKay’s harsh, but if anyone can show her the consequences of being wrong before she’s out in the field...”

It’s very true. McKay’s had some spectacular failures, though nothing quite tops the one at Area 51. “And Cadman?”

At that, she shakes her head. “I know they interacted at Area 51, but I bet it’s because she’s involved with Doctor Kusanagi.”

That would explain the antagonism a bit. For almost three years Miko Kusanagi has had a massive crush on McKay. She was heartbroken when he finally bought a clue and let her down. Gently, because despite rumors to the contrary Rodney can be conscientious when it really matters.

“So it’s more retaliation?”

“I doubt it. Miko still admires Rodney, and wouldn’t want to upset him.” She glances out the window. “If I had to guess, Cadman’s trying to bond with him.”

“By teasing?”

“She grew up with six brothers. It might be the only way she knows how.” Despite it being slightly against regs, she digs out a folder on her desk and hands it to me. It’s Cadman’s record. A quick perusal shows me she’s an explosives expert with experience in the Gulf, with the Secret Service, and surprisingly, Area 51. There’s an affidavit attached beneath, which I speed read.

“Huh.” McKay had gotten the blame for the disaster that sent him here, but Cadman was apparently one of the few voices defending him. “So part of it is being reminded of that time?” At Carter’s nod, I set the folder back on her desk. “Still, he’s not exactly happy, being assaulted in his lab and the mess.”

She looks out the window again, and I twist enough to see that Mitchell is calling a team meeting. Vala’s sitting on the edge of the table and Ronon is looming over the coffee maker, something that still confuses him even after months of living on Earth. Mitchell is talking to the newest members of his team by the door.

Lieutenant Hailey is shorter than me, with straw blond hair, a haughty tilt of her chin, and an aggressive stance. Mitchell seems to be taking that in stride. Lieutenant Cadman has longer hair, dyed strawberry, and is laughing at something Vala’s saying across the room, relaxed and comfortable despite being by Carter’s office.

SG-13 all together. I can’t help but grin as Carter moves in front of me. They may rub against my team roughly, but I recognize it, that invisible kinship of a team forming and feeling right. After all my time, like Lou, I can see it happening. “Guess it’s not all bad. I’ll talk to McKay.”

She nods, grabbing a set of folders from her desk, the blue color indicating it’s an off-world itinerary. “They’ll settle after a few missions.” She purses her lips as both Vala and Cadman bend their heads together, glancing at Mitchell as they speak. “But I’ll have a word with them, see if I can accelerate that effect.”

“S’all I’m asking for.” I stand up and straighten my jacket. “Fun first mission?”

“A MALP found an abandoned temple with strange light emanations. It seems like a good icebreaking mission.”

It’s not quite as easy as it was initially thought, and it’s the first of many times SG-7 and SG-13 trade off saving each other’s butts.

  


* * *

_“Now we know what happened to Qetesh,”_ the quiet male voice says, bringing me out of my memories.

 _“We must thank him properly for ridding us of Ra’s Mistress.”_

The other male voice, the rough one, chimes in. _“I think Walter’s Prim’ta is almost developed.”_

I can feel my heart begin to race at the Goa’uld word. I struggle again to pull myself out of this limbo I’m in, only to feel cold metal on my cheek and something warm rest against my shoulder. Something actually pulsates through my veins, and I suck in a sharp breath at the pain.

 _“He’s almost at maximum exposure. We should stop, continue another day.”_

 _“Not yet,”_ the rough voice replies.

 _“Ja-“_

 _“Not yet. We need one more piece of information.”_

 _“He is right, my beloved. But we will be swift,”_ the woman’s voice echoes around me. _“Tell us how you came to Atlantis.”_

Atlantis? The Gate symbols appear before me again. No, no, this is Taonas. Proculus. No, Proclarush Taonas, that’s what McKay called it. Proclarush Taonas. But Atlantis…right, right, Atlantis is on Taonas.

 _“Yes, how did the city arrive, and how did you know to come? Tell us, my love.”_

  


* * *

We’re gathered at Janet’s house for Cassandra’s sixteenth birthday. Cassie was the little girl with a bomb in her heart, the one I refused to abandon in the nuke silo alone because she was the same age as my oldest nephew. She was sobbing, scared and calling for me and…well, Bauer nearly had my hide because I acted on family instinct rather than followed orders. Carter went to bat for me, though, and it actually prompted the review that got me my promotion to Major.

Now, of course, she’s sixteen and we’re totally, as they say, ‘uncool’. Still, sixteen is a big event in America, and while Janet refuses to let her get a car, the expectation is there. Mostly in us adults, since Cassie seems far more interested in hanging out with friends than with us.

Still, I spent the afternoon cooking a nice dinner of her favorite dishes, and Sam bought her favorite cake—which, thank God, because the last cake she baked we had to throw into the backwash of a wormhole, since it was practically an EPA violation. She’s also brought Joseph Faxon, a diplomat from DC who was sent to negotiate with a race known as the Aschen. SG-2 was heading the mission, but Doctor Lindsey discovered something ‘hinky’—her words, even in the post-mission report.

It turns out the Aschen were responsible for sterilizing and decimating the Volian civilization. What was once a 20th century planet was now just a simple agrarian society. In a ‘show of good faith’, Ferretti provided the Aschen diplomat with ten Gate addresses, and promised to return the next day for final negotiations. Lou, being Lou, had actually left the assholes a list of some of the deadliest addresses known, starting with the Re’tu rebels world.

Faxon decided to stay at the SGC, review some of the alliances made and offer Sam his opinions. They’ve been dating now almost two months, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this happy before. In addition to celebrating Cassie’s birthday, this is supposed to be an introduction of Joseph into our unofficial, unorthodox family. I’m just going over the best way to grill steaks with the man when all the light bulbs in the house explode and the boy Cassie was speaking with calls for help.

It appears that prior to poisoning the planet of Hanka, the Goa’uld Nirrti was experimenting on the population to create what Teal’c calls a hok’taur. This advanced human is supposed to provide her with a superior host, capable of telekinesis from the way Cassie moves her chess pieces. Unfortunately, while Nirrti’s retrovirus has succeeded in altering Cassie, it wasn’t a success. She’s constantly on edge of breaking a fever above 105 and her attitude…

Well, apparently it’s triggered a form of blood bond, rejecting all those who aren’t family by birthright. It’s hurtful to hear, but I can see it’s killing Janet each time Cassie lashes out. When we finally move her to an EM shielded room, I have to pull Janet aside and wrap my arms around her. I could tell her that we’ll find a way to save Cassandra and it’ll be alright, that there is hope.

Unfortunately, neither of us is that self-deceptive. It takes a good five minutes before either of us can let go, and even then, I find myself hovering nearby as Fraiser goes to check on the latest blood tests.

When it’s discovered that Nirrti is on base, having hitched a ride back with SG-2 through the Stargate, I send Mitchell’s team to scour the base and surround Cassandra with SG-7. They might not be as close to her as I am, but McKay’s surprisingly adept with the TER, and Shep and Teyla have faced down Goa’uld in hand-to-hand combat. Me, I’ve got a zat ready for whatever comes.

The blast from the ribbon device through the window hits me dead-on, but Cassie, brilliant girl, grabs the zat as I fly by and shoots the snake as it’s jumping through the shattered glass. By the time I’m back on my feet Teyla and Shep have her secured. I’m about to give my pseudo-daughter accolades when McKay hits the panic button on the side of the room, eyes wide and face ashen. He’s staring not at Nirrti, but at the gurney.

The ribbon device deactivated the monitoring machines, so there’d been no notification that she’d started convulsing just seconds ago. I grab her shoulders and shout as my hands get burned. I remember Janet saying her bioelectrical field had been altered and was generating additional heat to try and stave off the fever. I manage to make it a minute before orderlies wearing thermal gloves take over. It’s McKay that leads me out of the room as I hold my hands in front of me, ignoring the tears sliding down my face.

He leaves me against the wall for a second, then returns and sticks a needle in my arm before I even notice it. I bite my lip, but the pain starts to fade. “What the hell?”

“Toradal,” he says, “should help until we can get those, um, bandaged.” He winces as he takes my wrists. Blinking away the wetness, I can see welts, some of which have already burst from the heat. “Come on, Colonel.”

“But Cassie-“

“Is in good hands, which yours won’t be if they don’t get treated, now move it.” He tugs on my wrists and, reluctantly, I let myself be led to the infirmary.

As we walk, I notice that he’s breathing a bit hard. “McKay?”

“Why do you do that? I mean, yes, you like us to call you Lorne, but did you ever once think that maybe I’d prefer to be called Rodney, or the Major John? Hell, you slept with him and you don’t call him by his first name. What’s wrong with you?”

A small headache starts to press against my temples at his rush of words. “McK….Rodney-“

“There, see, was that hard? No. Maybe you could-“

“Rodney,” I say again as we enter the infirmary and he pulls me towards a bed, “what’s wrong?” He’s babbling, and he only does that when he’s upset, really upset.

He remains quiet as he manhandles me onto the bed, then goes off and starts yelling for doctors. I don’t see him again until I’m lying down, hands bandaged and the headache is in full force, a side-effect of the painkiller, I’m told. I give McKay a narrow-eyed glare, but I don’t blame him too much. The pain is just a tingle in my palms right now.

Clearing his throat, McKay sits on the stool and hugs himself. “My sister had epileptic seizures when she was younger. She was treated for a while, but when I was eighteen, I came back to see her and, well,” he tucks his chin to his chest, “I…froze. My roommate came with me on the trip and called an ambulance. Quick action, saved her life. But I never forgot how she looked, strong and brilliant one moment, and the next…”

I’ve seen a picture of McKay’s sister. They share the same expressive eyes and crooked grin, but where McKay has a receding hairline, she has bushels of blond hair. It only takes a minute to imagine the woman as a teenager, and in my head it’s a remarkable resemblance to Cassie. Of course, that could just be the drugs, but I’m usually pretty good about portraits. They were my mother’s specialty, after all.

Carefully, I reach beyond the bed and touch the back of my hand to McKay’s elbow. “Maybe, after this, you should go see her.”

“We haven’t spoken in years. She wouldn’t want to see me unless I was dying, and even then…” He directs his comment to the ground, rather than at me.

I struggle to sit up, using my elbows as leverage. “Rodney,” that gets his attention, and he slowly angles his face towards me, “she’s your sister, and you obviously still care about her. She’s probably worried about you too.” There’s a reason I call Lillian and the boys every weekend. “Next leave, take Sheppard and go visit her.”

He shuffles his feet. “What if she doesn’t want to see me?”

I feel my arms shake, and let myself slide back into a horizontal position. “She will.” He remains silent. “I could make it an order.”

“I’m not some mindless soldier.” There’s no heart in his retort. “I don’t have to listen to you.”

“No, but take it from a guy with a sister: you should.”

He’s quiet again, but eventually, he says, “Yeah, okay. You, um, you should get some rest.”

I’m asleep before he’s even stepped away.

  


* * *

I’m up and about only six hours later. The painkiller isn’t fully worn off, but Cassie’s had another seizure and Janet, well, I saw the desperation in her eyes. I’m trying to head her off, prevent her from doing something foolish or suicidal—to her or her career—when Teyla pulls me into one of the weapons lockers. When I open my mouth to protest, she holds up her hand and checks the room out before humming softly.

This is…not usual behavior. “Teyla?”

“Colonel Lorne, I have to confess I have not been fully honest with you.” There’s a hesitation in her voice, like she’s betraying a great confidence. “Kheb is not our home world. Athos was destroyed by the Goa’uld, but Oma led us to her retreat because she saw…potential in us.”

“Potential,” I sound out slowly.

She squirms, actually squirms, for the first time since I’ve known her. “Kheb offers the sutras of the Ancestors, who you call Ancients, to ascend. Many of my people are able to follow the given Path, and join Oma in exploring a higher state of consciousness.”

This isn’t really news to me. Given the report from Teal’c and SG-1, that’s been conjecture from the beginning. Still, she’s trying to admit something difficult, and I’m not going to interrupt her again until it’s out. It might derail the entire thing.

“When we begin the final transition to the last steps of the Path, my people have been known to gain great abilities. The monk Teal’c met could light fires with his mind. Charin was granted the gift of prophesy before she passed on. These gifts are the first steps in understanding the universe beyond physical perception.

“However,” she continues, hesitantly, “in times of strife, when Oma has been unable to assist us, there are certain sutras that, when invoked, allow us a glimpse of this greater understanding.” She pauses briefly. “Most often, that guided understanding is used to heal.”

I suck in a sharp breath. “You can heal Cassie?”

“Yes. But,” and of course, of course there’s a ‘but’, “I…it will be at great personal cost.”

I lean forward now, almost looming over her. “Cassie is dying-“

“I know, Colonel. And yes, if I do this, I believe I can help her.” She rests her hands on my shoulders and pulls me forward, until our foreheads our touching. “I have seen how it is affecting you, how Doctor Fraiser is hurting.” Her eyes flutter shut as her grip tightens. “If you ask it of me, I will heal Cassandra.”

My gut is to say yes, to demand that she go heal my third favorite kid immediately and damn the consequences. I tell my gut to shove it, because I’m a Colonel in the Air Force, and sometimes that means putting the greater good ahead of personal desires. “What’s the cost, Teyla?”

“It is not a question-“

“Tell me,” I interrupt, tone firm but quiet. “You said it’s a great personal cost. What is it? Your life for hers? Banishment from Kheb?”

“No, not quite.” She continues to keep her eyes shut, but pulls away from me, letting go of my shoulders. “Should I do this,” she folds her hands together, “I will not be able to follow that Path again.” When she opens her eyes, there’s a depth of sadness that pains me so much I almost wish I could capture it with a paintbrush.

It takes me a moment to process exactly what she’s saying. “You’re saying you won’t ascend, won’t join your people up,” I wave to the ceiling, “up there.”

Her smile is melancholy. “That is the price of rushed enlightenment. That Path becomes closed. There are other ways to follow, and occasionally a guide may help. But, most often those that walk this Path are left behind.”

I stare at her a moment, then lean against the ammo shelves. “Teyla, I can’t, I can’t ask you to give up your, your heaven or whatever it is. I mean…” I reach up to rub my forehead, then wince as the bandage rubs against my damaged skin at the pressure. “Christ, Teyla. No. I want to save Cassie but…”

“Nirrti is negotiating her help now, but that price may be too steep for Samantha to accept. It may be too late when she finally admits she must accept any demand made by the Goa’uld.”

Which is very true. Sam loves Cassie as much as I or Janet does, but her first responsibility is the SGC. Nirrti developed phase-shifting technology, cloaking capabilities, and is a master of genetic manipulation. If it came down to interrogating every last bit of knowledge from the snake and one girl’s life, I know where the Joint Chiefs will throw their support.

“Teyla-”

“Evan,” she whispers, “sometimes I do not know if the Path I’ve chosen is correct. I came to spread the sutras of Ascension, but also to help, to heal.”

I shake my head. “You’d never see your parents, Charin, any of your people again.”

“They do visit, occasionally.”

“But when your Path ends, you wouldn’t…get to be with them.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps this is the Path I’m meant to take.” She reaches up to tuck her hair back.

I know that Janet would want Teyla’s help. I know Sam would never ask for it save for in her mind. But Teyla’s come to me, her team leader, to decide over the fate of two people I care about. And despite the conflict in my heart, in my head the decision’s already made, because it was never mine to begin with.

Teyla came to me, not to ask her for help, but to ask me for permission to let herself do this.

Sometimes, I’m surprised how much faith my team has in me, and in how much I understand them. Lou would say that’s good leadership. My mother would say it’s my empathic nature. I, personally, just want to do the right thing, do good in the universe. And when you really boil it all down in the end, isn’t that what matters the most?

Teyla is asking to do good in the universe, because she can’t bring herself to do it alone. Remembering my hand at the last minute, I wrap my arm around hers and give her a nod. “If you are to walk this Path, know that you won’t walk it alone.” The smile she gives me is almost relieved. “So what do we need to do?”

She pulls away from me a bit. “I must go meditate. It should not take more than an hour. Then I will need to see the Goa’uld. I cannot treat Cassandra until I know what has been done.”

I nod. “I’ll get Shep to secure the prisoner alone.” I grimace. “And then I’ll go see Janet. Before anything escalates.”

I run into the doctor in question less than five minutes later, sedative in her pocket and gun in her coat. “Whoa, there,” I say, crowding her against the wall, “let’s not be hasty.”

When she looks at me, I can see the hopeless desperation, the will of a mother broken by her dying child. “Nirrti can help her. She has three, maybe four hours left. And Sam, Sam…”

Sam won’t agree in time. I can read it in her face and in the knowledge of how the Colonel’s had to harden herself over the years. Still, we have an alternative. A slim hope is better than none. “There’s another way.” At her skeptical look, I lower my voice and tell her of Teyla’s plan.

Less than two hours later, Teyla has not only read Nirrti’s mind, but performed a lay-on-hands miracle the likes of which Christ himself would applaud. Teyla manages a warm smile and confirmation that Cassie’s okay before she passes out on the gurney Janet insisted be ready for her. A few tests later confirm that Cassandra’s on the mend and Teyla’s relatively okay, except for some strange brain activity that’s fading fast.

Sam is of course as ecstatic as the rest of us at the results, but not how we went about obtaining them. “I should have been consulted,” she says, an official reprimand to me, Janet, and Teyla. “It was dangerous, reckless, and could have backfired if the symbiote had gotten loose.”

“Teyla says it won’t be a risk factor again.” The stink-eye she gives me tells me my report better explain what that means in explicit detail.

Janet can’t keep the relief from showing, and seems to be ignoring the meeting entirely. Rather than let Sam ruin her reverie, I clear my throat. “Right, sorry, sir.”

“Damn right you are.” She sits down and runs a hand through her hair. “We’ll be transferring Nirrti to Dulce Base, Arizona. They’ve just finished the retrofit for Goa’uld prisoners.”

“And Teyla?” I have to ask, because the NID are sick, sick bastards and wouldn’t hesitate to lock her up if they heard about this.

“Teyla,” she says authoritatively, “was assisted in healing Cassandra by the entity known as Oma Desala. Much like the Monk on Kheb could ask her to ignite candles and levitate weapons with prayer.” She gives me a hard look. “Obviously, inviting an alien presence into the SGC without authorization is not looked well upon, and we will request she never make such a prayer again.”

Sometimes, I could just kiss Sam. Again. Faxon would deck me, but it would be worth it. “Thanks,” I say softly.

Her Colonel façade melts away. “I’m glad she’s back, too.” She glances at her desk, turns to Janet, then, to me. “It seems Teyla mentioned seeing another planet in Nirrti’s mind, a place where she’s studying their genetic makeup and some sort of experimental element?”

I nod, because as Teyla sifted through Nirrti’s mind, she spoke of what she saw, which Shep was bright enough to record. “Yeah. A planet called Langara.” I think that’s what it was. “Teyla said she’d taken one of the natives, a…Kel-something, and was impressed with the genetic advances.”

She again looks at her desk, which has what I now can see is a transcript of Shep’s recording. “Kelownan. Teyla also mentioned that the potential of naquadria could give her an advantage over the System Lords.”

I nod, then wave one of my hands. “Once I’m back up to speed, permission to take SG-7 and check out this Kelowna place.”

“It’ll probably take that long to get the address out of her, so permission granted.”

  


* * *

Carter’s right, and while it only takes three weeks for my hands and Cassandra’s health to recover, it takes nearly six before Nirrti is convinced to reveal Langara’s Gate symbols. It took a visit from the Tok’ra and their memory device to pry it out of her, and that took a full five days. During that time, Major Paul Davis is reassigned to coordinate all information and communication between the Pentagon, Area 51, Dulce Base, and the SGC, where he’s now officially stationed.

Davis’ a nice guy, and helps keep the other bases honest with us, but the crush he has on Sam is a little pathetic. It is amusing, I have to say, to see him compete with Faxon, who’s fully aware of the Major’s feelings. When Sam finally notices, though, there’s gonna be hell to pay. I can’t wait.

So we go to Langara, and the Stargate is based in a country known as Kelowna, which is at about mid-20th century Earth level in development, with the exception of the naquadria, which is definitely more explosive than a splitting atom. Far more radioactive, too, as it turns out.

Negotiations are going great, Teyla and I are actually ready to call in Faxon to write an official treaty between our worlds, when an alarm goes off. It isn’t until we arrive outside the lab almost fifteen minutes later to find Rodney covered in small cuts and Shep with a bruised jaw that we find out what happened.

“Don’t touch me!” Rodney’s voice carries well over a block. “Highly contaminated with radioactive isotopes! How is that difficult to comprehend?! If you touch me you could get cancer or worse! Now go away!”

I stop at the edge of the crowd around the lab entrance. “McKay?”

His head snaps to me immediately. “Colonel, finally! I need to get back to the SGC now and these,” he waves at what look to be military police, or paramedics, maybe both, around him, “people won’t listen to me!”

The cuts on his face are definitely from broken glass, I recognize those abrasions. “What happened?”

That’s apparently the wrong thing to ask because both Shep and McKay’s faces turn red. “Now is not the time—look, I need to get to Fraiser and get into isolation before I become the cancer fairy and sterilize these intellectually-shallow-“

“McKay,” Sheppard snaps.

“I’m sorry, is that not delicate enough?” The sarcasm is so thick it’s practically dripping on the street. “I just saved this nation from oblivion and probably ruined any chance of passing on my genius-“

Teyla grimaces and I just rub my forehead. Right, it’s gonna be one of those days. Instead, I focus on the contamination aspect and shift to the most authoritative voice I can. “Right. Let’s get to the Stargate.” As the natives start to protest, I give them a scathing glare. “Major, feel free to shoot anyone who interferes.” We’re out numbered, but we also have the superior weapons. It’s enough of a threat that they let us get to the Stargate unmolested.

McKay’s careful not to touch anything or anyone, but he does mutter along the way, “Stupid self-sacrificing martyr complex. Knew sleeping with him would be detrimental, running into a radioactive lab to save a bunch of brain-dead backwards aliens.”

Sighing, I look to Shep, whose jaw is clenched. “What happened,” I ask again.

“The naquadria experiment went wrong,” he answers tersely. “I tried to get McKay to leave, he punched me, shot through the glass, and deactivated it. Against orders.”

“The blast would’ve wiped out the nation!”

I see Sheppard’s jaw tic to argue, but he doesn’t say anything. That alone tells me McKay’s probably right.

Teyla begins the dialing sequence as I pull out the GDO. “But it is a treatable amount of radiation, right, Rodney? After all, it was a controlled experiment.”

Rodney’s silence speaks volumes. I exchange a helpless look with Teyla as he runs through the event horizon, Shep on his heels. The feeling I had when Cassie fell ill is back, only this time, I’m pretty sure it won’t end quite as well.

  


* * *

Even though it’s not fair, I know no one at the mountain really believes how brave and selfless Rodney is. It’s an ongoing joke I’ve heard, from marines to the support staff to even Mitchell, and he’s read the off-world reports. It doesn’t seem to bother McKay nearly as much as it does Shep. I’ve tried my best to put down the insults, but Rodney yells in the lab and complains about bruises and…well, no one believes me.

Until he walks through the Stargate covered in deadly radiation.

Rodney saved the day. And now he’s dying.

“Can you tell John to stop sulking. I’m the one dying, for God’s sake.”

“I think he’s sulking because you bruised his jaw.”

“Well, he taught me that trick, so it’s his own damn fault.” Rodney crosses his arms, winces, then uncrosses them. He doesn’t look like he’s burned, but according to Janet the cell membranes are stating to break down. It won’t be much longer before the open sores appear. “Besides, if I hadn’t, then…well, I had to.”

Sheppard glowers from his corner of the isolation room, and still doesn’t dispute the statement. The bruise has changed to a dark purple and his cheek is swollen enough that Fraiser has forced an ice pack on him. He hasn’t left the room since she said Rodney could have company. That was six hours ago. After a fourteen-hour day.

“Shep, go rack out.” The look I get could skin a cat at fifty paces. I just give him my ‘I’ve killed greater Goa’uld than you’ glare. It’s made even Teal’c hesitate. “I mean it. Two hours minimum.”

John still won’t move, not until Janet hits the intercom from the observation window. “The Colonel’s right, Major. Get some rest or I’ll drug you myself.”

Shep shifts his poison look to the window, but does, finally, push away from the wall and walks over to the bed. He looks down at Rodney, and I just find the IV bag very, very fascinating. Another minute later, I hear John’s boots retreating from the room.

I startle as Rodney’s fingers touch my sleeve. It’s been determined that the radiation wouldn’t spread, but it’s still unnerving. “I’m not…you know we don’t express…things.”

I take a minute to translate that from Rodney-speak. “Yeah.” I look at him, at his wide blue eyes and half-turned down mouth and the way he’s nervously touching his chest. “You’re worried about Shep.”

He nods. “Not that I think he’ll eat his gun, but…well, he’s heroically suicidal when he’s happy.”

And it’s true. Shep has done some stupid shit in the name of saving the day. We all have. He’s just come closest to dying. At least, until now. “You’re worried he’ll not pull his ass out of the fire next time.”

Rodney doesn’t answer, just looks down at his hands. The tips of his fingers have turned red and raw. “He always thought he’d go first,” he says, finally.

I can hear the guilt in that And the pain. And a whole myriad of other things that are a part of the whole Shep-McKay relationship. “You did the right thing.”

“I know that, Colonel,” McKay snaps. “I’m not an idiot. Not like that tuft-haired, pointy-eared, MENSA-rejecting…”

I just sigh as Rodney trails off. “I’ll look out for him. Make sure he doesn’t do anything too idiotic.”

“I…yes. Good. Thanks.” He shifts down in his bed a bit and rests his hands on his thighs, palms up. “I, um,” He looks at me, then closes his eyes. “Thank you. For the team. And, you know. Saving my life and my valuable brain.” He lets out a slow breath. “I suck at this.”

I just touch his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re my friend too.” That seems to relax him. As I leave, the monitors note that he’s fallen asleep. Janet passes me as I exit, holding new bandages and a hopeless look on her face. The same look she had when Cassie was dying.

I don’t really remember slamming my fist against the wall. But I don’t mind the fact that my broken fingers keep me in the infirmary just a little while longer.

The news is all over the mountain by the time I’m discharged for dinner. A whole new level of respect for McKay has been spread. It doesn’t take long to discover that Cadman spread the word. She looks miserable in the mess hall, pushing her food around and snapping at people making jokes at McKay’s expense. I guess she sees this as her own personal atonement for past teasing.

There’s probably a lot of that going around.

Rodney deteriorates rapidly, so much more so than anyone expects. Area 51 refuses to send back the sarcophagus, and the president, the conservative bastard, agrees. Carter tries every trick, calls in every favor, and in the end I find her with her face in her hands. She knows Rodney almost as well as SG-1. She’s probably one of his few true friends. “We never should’ve given it up.”

“We didn’t have a choice,” I say. Not after the addictions, not after the personality changes. No one wants to see another Aiden Ford.

And we both know that’s the bullshit answer. They refused to fly it in for Cassie, for Teal’c, for dozens of casualties and hundreds of injuries. Major Davis is throwing what weight he can around, but they have their own agenda and it doesn’t include saving the very people who put their lives on the line for the world.

She sits back in the big leather chair, and for the first time she looks too small for it, and too young to be that miserable. “I’ve called Jeannie, his sister.” The one I told him to contact, but I know for a fact he hasn’t yet. “She’s on a flight, but I don’t…” She stops. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Evan.”

I sit on the edge of one of the guest chairs. “You did your best. That’s all we can ask.”

She shakes her head. “Not yet.” She turns to the side, looking at the Stargate. “There’s the Tok’ra, and the Asgard. They could be here-“

The phone interrupts her. As she picks it up I can see it’s Janet’s extension. She collapses back with a simple, “Yes, we’ll be right there.” She hangs up without breaking her stare across the room, and I know we’ve run out of time.

I stand and offer her my hand. It’s inappropriate, especially with Faxon around, but we could both use the support right now. She doesn’t even react for a moment, lost in thought, before reaching out. “I brought him into this, you know. And he said,” she stops at the door, “he said it’d be all my fault if he got killed by an alien ray gun.”

I remember. He’d said the same thing to me five years ago. “He still went out with us, knowing the risks.” He loved this job, I don’t say, because we both know it.

She offers me a weak smile. “I know. I just wish he wasn’t always right.”

“Kinda sucks, doesn’t it.”

There’s nothing more to say after that, so we walk the rest of the way in silence.

It’s a small gathering in the isolation room. John’s holding one heavily bandaged hand, looking miserable and angry and heartbroken. It’s frightening to see him so vulnerable. I rest my hand on his back. He doesn’t move, doesn’t look away from Rodney. I can only hope it helps.

Carter stands at the foot of the bed, along with Janet. Zelenka, probably Rodney’s closest friend outside of the team, is muttering Czech prayers beside them. Vala’s on the other side, dejectedly rolling the stool back and forth. Ronon stands behind her, occasionally stopping her from rolling too far in either direction. I’m not surprised that SG-14 is here. Lou and SG-2 would be as well if they weren’t off-world at the moment. Mitchell is standing near the window, along with Cadman who’s holding a sobbing Miko. Teyla is by McKay’s head, lips moving silently. She’s probably silently repeating the sutras Rodney’s most familiar with from their meditations.

It’s depressingly silent. Then, for no reason, Rodney lets out a quiet, “Hah.” A second later, the monitor flatlines.

John stiffens and I bow my head.

And then, then his body starts to glow. I didn’t think that was a side effect of the radiation, and from Janet’s face, she’s just as clueless. We all stare as Rodney seems to…shed his human form and emerge, slowly, as this white glowing, well, I’d call it a Spaghetti Monster, but I guess it could be a squid. I’m not sure.

For a second, I see Rodney in front of the Stargate, John at the end of the ramp looking just as devastated as he does by the bed. _“Take care of him,”_ resounds in my head, and then the vision is gone, along with the glowing creature and Rodney’s body.

No one does anything for a good thirty, sixty, ninety seconds.

John breaks it with a kick to the bed, before turning and walking out with his hands in his pockets, his head turned down.

Not one of us has the courage to follow.

  


* * *

I manage to get Teyla alone the next afternoon. “That’s it, right? That’s Ascension?”

She nods, with an almost proud air. “In our meditations, I recounted the sutras for Ascension. I was not aware he was taking them to heart.” She thinks for a moment. “Although as we spoke later, he seemed to be trying to define Ascension in scientific terms. Perhaps he found a balance between the two, to allow him to shed his burden.”

I’d be more impressed if he used that near-Ascended power to heal himself, but that seems to have been beyond him. “But he’s still alive?”

“With the Others, yes. He is on a new plane of consciousness, becoming one with the universe.”

There’s a note of envy in her voice, and I kick the pang of guilt that stirs from asking for her help with Cassie. “Can he come back?”

“While they do visit, actual returns are rare.” She rests against the wall for a moment. “I honestly do not know, for non-Athosians. It may be that they can not.” She sighs. “I am sorry, Colonel, I wish I could give you definite answers.”

“It’s alright.” I’m actually more worried about Shep, who refused to come in today. Jeannie, McKay’s sister, apparently flew in last night, and while I offered to greet her, Carter said that Shep wanted to handle it alone. I’m not sure that was the best idea, now that it’s been decided not to hold a funeral. After all, he’s not dead so much as…on indefinite leave.

When I go to his lab, I find Miko still crying, looking over notes that, apparently, were left to her in the event of McKay’s death. I offer a quick touch on the shoulder before heading to the larger desk, one with binders and journals piled up. The life and work of Rodney McKay. Sam, I know, received some of these. It appears Zelenka is the keeper of the rest. He looks up from whatever impossible equation is on his laptop and blinks slowly.

He probably isn’t one to sob his woes away, but the bloodshot eyes and dark circles speak of the man’s method of grieving. “How’re you doing?”

“It is,” he waves a sloppy hand over the documents, “slow. He was—is a brilliant scientist. Not so nice man, but brilliant.”

“So he wasn’t just boasting about that future Nobel.” Zelenka merely shakes his head. I glance at the equations on the boards, idly flip through one of the journals, and finally, at Zelenka’s irritated mutter, clear my throat. “So, I know it’s soon, but I happen to know Carter’ll be sending us out in a week or two.” Once Shep gets his head back together. “I was wondering, well,” I rub my nose, careful of the splint around my fingers, “McKay always said you were the least stupid scientist he’s ever worked with, which means you’re probably the best.”

He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands and lets out a small growl. “Colonel, I am not a man who likes to travel.”

“I need a fourth, and I can think of no one else Rodney would recommend.” At the man’s pointed look to Miko, I shake my head. He sighs, looks at the work left to him, then mutters something in Czech that I’m fairly sure involves Rodney’s mother and a stallion. “Yes, okay. But if I get shot my wrath will be slow and involve many appliances broken.”

“Duly noted. I’ll send someone to get you certified.” I knock on the desk. “In a couple days? After you’ve dried out.” He gives me a sharp look at that. “You hide it well,” I say in a low voice, “but I know how to recognize grieving.”

“Then leave me to do it my way. Rodney would admire the liver poisoning attempt.”

The not-so-funny fact is, that’s probably true. Knocking on the desk again, I nod and head out. On the way, I steal the tissues from another scientist’s desk and hand it to Miko, who’s just worked through what appears to be her fourth box. Sometimes I wish I could just let it out of my system that way. It seems a healthier way to do it than some.

When SG-2 finally returns, Ferretti pulls me out of my office to go to his house, and pulls off my clothes before I can ask how the mission went. “Wait, what? Lou.”

He pauses, frowning at me. “What? Not how you want to commemorate his passing?”

“He’s just…left, not dead.” It’s actually pretty difficult to wrap my mind around. I should be sad, but he’s off exploring the mysteries of unified theory. Other than not being with Shep, he’s probably thrilled.

“Huh,” he leans back, then tosses my BDUs at me. “Well, want a beer then?”

I shake my head. “I should go check on Sheppard.” With Zelenka, I wanted to give him early notice, but I may have been misleading about my timetable. Carter will give us at least two weeks, maybe three, to process the loss.

“I’ll drive ya.” Once we’re on the way, he sighs and leans back, one hand on the wheel. “If you ever want to talk-“

“I know, Lou. But bad as it was, he’s…moved on, literally. Not dead, just flying spaghetti.” I get a snort laugh from that. “I think it’ll be okay. Teyla says they sometimes visit.”

“Probably shouldn’t. The NID would build Ghostbuster traps just for him.”

“He’d probably rewire them to explode in a non-harmful yet fully humiliating way if they did.”

“Yeah, that sounds like McKay.” He pulls up to the curb outside Shep’s condo, the one he once shared with McKay. Ferretti looks at the darkened widows and whistles low. “You want me to stay for back-up?”

“Naw.” This is a team thing, something a CO does for his men. “See ya flip-side.”

“Ditto,” he says as I step out of the car. Approaching the door, I know the security code to get in, spoken in urgent whispers when McKay swore he was being stalked and needed someone to save him ASAP when Sheppard wasn’t around. I know it hasn’t been changed, so I just punch in the code and use the spare key Shep handed me almost a year ago.

The lights are all out, but the house is definitely not empty. Shep’s lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling. If it weren’t for the way his body was completely tense and his eyes seemed to be unblinking, I could almost imagine he was fine. Shutting the door, I go over and sit on the floor in front of the couch, watching the blank television.

I’m not counting the minutes, but I know a bit of time has passed by the time Shep acknowledges me. “Lorne.”

“Hey Shep.”

One of his arms flops off the edge of the couch, and I reach over to it. His touch is hesitant, but with a little nudge he holds onto my hand.

The silence reigns again. I decide to try some of Teyla’s meditative breathing exercises to pass the time, try and make some sense of my own conflicting emotions while helping Shep with his.

Almost an hour passes before he speaks again. “Jeannie told me to fuck off, that it’s my fault the bastard’s dead.” His voice is dull, monotone.

I don’t blame her. If some soldier came up to Lillian and told her I was dead or MIA, she’d do the exact same thing. “If it was your fault, you would’ve gotten an earful on the way to the Gate,” is what I say instead.

“Yeah.” He squeezes my hand, and another round of silence commences. This one isn’t nearly as long, though. “Lorne?”

“Yeah, Shep?”

“Sometimes I fuckin’ hate this galaxy.”

I sigh and lean back against the couch. “Backatcha, buddy.”

  


* * *

All in all, it’s almost a month before the base psych gives Shep a clean bill to step through the Stargate. It’s Zelenka’s first mission with us, so Carter’s sending us on a simple recon of one of Ba’al’s mining worlds. Low Jaffa presence, supposedly no one around the Gate, just a quick look-see for the Tok’ra to repay a favor.

Of course, it goes FUBAR within ten minutes, and results in my fingers re-breaking, Teyla’s hair getting singed by a staff blast, and Zelenka falling down the ramp straight into two marines. Oh, and Shep getting captured by Ba’al himself. According to the Tok’ra, he’s been taken to a secret base in another star system.

I’m swearing up a storm before I’m even out of the Gate room. We haven’t had much interaction with Ba’al, but what we have had indicates he’s more sadistic than Sokar and as well armed as Apophis was at the height of his power. The Tok’ra have an operative at this secret base, but supposedly she’s just as trapped as Shep and is unable to contact him.

After nineteen straight hours I finally hit the bunkroom with a mantra of ‘fuck fuck fuck fuck’ as my head hits the pillow. It doesn’t take long for my subconscious to manifest my guilt in the most obvious fashion.

 _“One thing!” McKay yells, dressed in a t-shirt with binary numbers and jeans. “I ask you to do one thing on my deathbed and what do you do?! Let John get captured by the most sadistic System Lord alive! I can’t believe you!” He pokes me in the chest, hard._

 _“Ow!” I rub my chest. I’m still in my BDUs jacket stripped off but otherwise exactly as I was trying to brainstorm a rescue with Carter, Mitchell, and Ferretti not an hour ago. “One, it wasn’t my fault. You know what Tok’ra intel’s like. And two, Shep can take care of himself!”_

 _“Not without me to watch his back! That was the whole point of me telling you to!” He huffs noisily, throwing his hands up in the air. “Honestly, Colonel! I’m gone five weeks and you’ve already degenerated to the point of Mitchell’s usefulness! What’s next, being as effective as Felger?”_

 _“Hey!” Because there’s no need for my brain to get that mean. “We’ll get him back.”_

 _“Please. He already thinks he’s hallucinating because Ba’al tossed him in that sarcophagus twice.” McKay begins pacing back and forth. The dreamscape, I notice, is actually Shep’s condo, though there’s more signs of Rodney’s habitation than there was when I last went a week ago. “Look, the Tok’ra know where the base is. See if you can use that.”_

 _“How?”_

 _He gets that very familiar ‘I work with morons’ pinched look on his face. “Do I have to think of everything? Seriously, Lorne, there are greater threats out there and while the discovery of all knowledge has been fantastic there’s some seriously frightening shit about to be hurled Earth’s way and I’m trying—“ He stops abruptly, then swears in what sounds like Latin. “Look, just…get the Tok’ra to tell you where he is. I’m sure you can figure it out from there. Now wake up!”_

My face meeting a cement wall coincides with McKay’s order. Rubbing my nose, I glance around and find myself almost two levels down from where I fell asleep. “Fuck.” I haven’t sleep-walked in ages.

“Colonel?” I turn and Cadman’s giving me an odd look. Glancing down, I find I’m only in a t-shirt and boxers. How the hell did I walk through two levels without anyone figuring out something was wrong? “Are you okay?”

I give her a shaky laugh. “Hardly. Just gotta remember to lock the door next time.”

“Right.” She pulls out her access card. “Want to take the elevator back to your floor and grab some pants before chow?”

“That’d be great, Lieutenant.” Teasing may be her default nature, but Cadman is apparently excellent at knowing when to keep her mouth shut, at least in regards to her superior officers.

Although I know I’m gonna get shit somewhere down the line for the lemon-stamped pattern on my boxers. Damn Shep and his gag gifts.

An hour later, I’m using every bit of diplomatic pressure I can to get Elliott to visit us. Subconscious or not, the Tok’ra do have an operative, which means they must know the location. Even if it’s heavily fortified, just knowing where Shep’s being held gives us an advantage. What that is, I haven’t figured out yet, but it’ll come to me.

Elliott can’t make it, but he does manage to get us the Gate coordinates. Our UAV doesn’t make it three yards before being shot down by multiple staff blasts. The heat sensors registered at least fifty Jaffa around the Gate alone. Alright, so a frontal assault won’t work. And we don’t have any starships of our own to take there.

“Think, Lorne, think,” I mutter to myself while Sam tries to negotiate base plans with the Tok’ra. I glance at the star map and ponder, what would McKay do?

“Use our knowledge against them.”

I turn to Teyla, surprised. “What?”

“What would McKay do?” She tilts her head. Behind her, Zelenka is nodding. “He would take the knowledge we possess and turn it against them.”

“Fine, but how?”

“We cannot negotiate,” Zelenka says, “with the Goa’uld in hiding. But what of other Goa’uld?”

I shake my head. “They don’t have any reason to help us.”

A smile creeps its way along Teyla’s face. “True, but perhaps they have a reason to help themselves.” At my and Zelenka’s questioning look, she points to the planet. “The Tok’ra have said this is a…secret research facility.”

“Yeah, only Ba’al and a few elite Jaffa are supposed to…know…” Wait, she couldn’t be suggesting…

“Yes, yes,” Zelenka’s bobbing his head. “Is there a way to have the Goa’uld attack?”

“What’s that,” Sam says, hearing the tail end of the question.

“Teyla and Zelenka were wondering if we could convince a Goa’uld to attack Ba’al’s very secret base.” It doesn’t rescue Shep, but it provides a brilliant distraction. And the Major has always been effective at rescuing himself when possible. “It might work.”

“It might get him killed,” she counters.

“Colonel Carter, if the Goa’uld is torturing and resurrecting him-“

She holds up her hand to stall Teyla’s argument. “However, that may be our only option. The Tok’ra have convened to discuss how they may help.”

I grimace. We all know when the Tok’ra go to ‘discuss’ anything it’s a delay tactic. There’ll be no further help from them. “Alright. So who should we contact?” The ones we can contact without being shot are fairly limited. Plus Ba’al has a lot of influence and a lot of power. It’ll take someone of equal status to launch this assault.

The mysterious System Lord who took out the Tollan is not someone I want to deal with. Nirrti’s forces, from all reports, have been absorbed by some unknown female Goa’uld. Mal Doran could try to fake it, I suppose, but I doubt the Jaffa would fall for it. And Chronos, of course, was killed a couple years ago. That leaves only one Goa’uld left who might have the necessary strength to make the attack.

As a side benefit, he’s also the most reasonable. A quick glance at Carter and I can see she’s reading my mind. “Lord Yu?”

She nods. “Lord Yu.”

  


* * *

It works, of course, and while my subconscious never gets quite so vocal again, there’s a hint of smugness permeating my dreams for the next month. Shep comes back bruised, burned, but otherwise no worse for wear after a bad mission. He spends a week on my couch, before he finally feels comfortable enough to return to his home alone. I’m not sure if he’ll end up selling the condo, or hold onto it as the last physical tie to McKay. I have a feeling he doesn’t know either.

More disturbing is that the ranting in the dream, of the dangerous things out there coming for Earth, may be true. SG-2 first gets the news that Anubis, a System Lord who had supposedly died 1000 years ago, has returned. Even worse, it’s his technological upgrades that allowed for the assault on Tollana and the successful breaches of the Asgard Protected Planets Treaty. Somehow, he’s not scavenging for technology, but actually developing his own.

Mitchell’s late reporting back with SG-13, who was on a mission to help establish a new Tok’ra base. It takes my team, SG-3, SG-4, and SG-8 to finally extract them. While his status as a System Lord is in question, Anubis is apparently making some power moves. When we finally find SG-13, Dex is carrying Elliott’s body, and Mitchell reports that my ex-teammate gave his life to activate an experimental gas killing the Goa’uld invasion force. Unfortunately, this was after a successful raid that obliterated the Tok’ra ruling body and most of its support structure.

The Tok’ra are able to remove Selmak before I return the body to his parents for a proper burial. Mitchell comes with me to observe the final rites. When I ask why, late that night after drinking half the mini-bar, he says, “Jay told me how you took him in, got his feet into the interplanetary pool. He said you were the best damned Major there was, and if I was ever half as good as you, I should praise Jesus.” He finishes off the bottle of whiskey.

“That’s why you came?”

“That, and he knocked me away from a cave-in during the bombardment. Least I could do was bring him home.”

That was definitely Elliott. Think first, deal with broken bones later. Picking up the two mini-bottles of wine, I hand one to Mitchell and clink them together. “To fallen comrades.”

“Hooyah.”

“Wrong service.”

“Just drink.”

Ba’al and Yu are apparently not happy to have their dominance challenged, and a small galactic war erupts between Anubis’ new coalition and the rest of the System Lords. For once, without any interference, we can let the snakes duke it out. Granted, whoever wins may be too powerful to handle alone, but with luck the _Prometheus_ , the first Earth-constructed space ship, will be ready by then.

So in the meantime, we continue to go on missions, try to gather allies, and follow-up on rumors of the missing SGC personnel. When we’re not off-world, I and SG-7 especially, are trying to deal with the emotional impact of losing Elliott and, of course, Rodney.

Yet for all the emotional impact McKay’s departure has on my team and the base, his return is equally opposite in magnitude. I’m at my desk reviewing Sam’s proposed off-world mission specs when he enters my office and sits in what was his usual chair. I don’t even look up. “Bored in the labs?” It’s an automatic response, one I don’t even think about saying.

“No, just had to grab some clothes. You can only return naked, apparently. Despite their obviously repressed social psyche, the Ancients have no concept of modesty for the mortal form. I’m surprised Orlin didn’t just appear in Carter’s bed nude.”

“Still pissed she’d rather sleep with an alien than you, eh McKay?” I smirk. And then, then I freeze, and ever so slowly look up. And, yes, that is McKay sitting there, as if he hadn’t just died four months ago, destroyed Shep’s life, and turned me into a pseudo-counselor. “Rodney,” I swallow.

He doesn’t look inordinately pleased or upset. In fact, he has his normal annoying smirk, the one he uses around natives and slow scientists. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what I looked like. It’s only been-“

“Four months, two days, fourteen hours,” I recite. “Holy fuck.” I lean back. “You just…you can’t just walk in here like…like you’re fucking Christ!”

“Actually, he was the inspiration. Of course, he just appeared on Earth, rather than fully descended.” Rodney shrugs. “So, yes, apparently, I can.”

I can feel my mouth open as I stare, my mind completely a jumble trying to process Rodney McKay sitting across from me as if it were any other Tuesday.

Rodney sighs. “Is this going to take long? I’m really hungry and when you’re a mass of energy? You can’t get blue jello.”

And if that isn’t straight Rodney McKay… I thump my head against the wall and pick up the phone. “Fraiser, I’m coming to see you. Either I’m going insane, or Sheppard’s gonna blow a gasket.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. _“I’m sure that made sense to you.”_

“Just have security standing by.” To protect us all from McKay or protect McKay from Sheppard, I’m not sure. I stand and point to him. “Come on. Let’s get you checked out.”

“I knew I should’ve appeared to Carter,” he mumbles. “Or John. God, I miss sex.”

I really should rethink that rule about no alcohol on base.

Fifty tests and one screaming match heard all the way up on the surface later, it’s confirmed that Doctor Rodney McKay has returned. “Seriously, I should’ve just appeared in our bed,” he moans, tired of the ongoing debriefing and lack of escape.

Shep’s still furious, but he also refuses to move more than six inches away from Rodney. And every time he stands up, he bounces on his feet, like a little kid ready to take off to play. Teyla looks pleased as well, and Carter, well, Carter has a stunned surprised look until McKay points at her and say, “Hey, by the way, Orlin totally lied and spied on you in the shower.”

Which has Faxon yelling, “Who the hell is Orlin?!”

Major Davis gets a glazed look at McKay’s words.

Sam’s face actually freezes before she clenches her teeth and says, “Thank you, Rodney, that was very useful to know.” That’s definitely a grin that could kill at fifty paces.

He waves his hand though, smiling and looking at Shep, who gets a bright, little-boy grin that looks very undignified on a Major in the Air Force.

Still, something’s been nagging me since he appeared in my office. “So why have you come back, McKay?”

The room goes silent, and if Sheppard’s gaze were daggers I’d be bleeding all over the floor. McKay, however, flushes. “Well, a couple reasons, actually.” Shep rolls his chair closer, so the armrests squeak as they rub against each other. “One, the Ancients are total prudes, and that whole non-interference policy?” He wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, no. That just sucks too much to be a part of.”

“And two,” I prompt.

“Well, I did mention some bad things were coming.” At everyone’s startled stare, McKay snorts. “Really, Colonel? You think your subconscious is that perceptive to the reality around you?” At that, all eyes turn to me.

I just shrug meekly. “It was a dream?”

“Lame,” McKay denounces. “Anyways, Anubis has come, the war’s on, but here’s the bitch.” He points up. “They will come here, and when they do? We’ll be toast. So,” he smiles, crooked and wide, “I decided to give them a surprise when they arrive.”

“What sort of surprise,” Carter says slowly.

“A bit of background,” McKay clears his throat. “The reason Anubis vanished for 1000 years is that Oma screwed up and ascended a Goa’uld. Yes, he’s The Darkness in your stories and no,” he says to Teyla, “I don’t know how he hid his nature, but that’s what happened.” He turns back to the table. “That’s also why his technology is leaps ahead of the others. He’s able to access some of the Ancient knowledge.”

Davis pales a bit, but sits up straight in his chair. “So you came back so we’d have access to that knowledge too, correct?”

“You think they’d let me keep it? Those hypocritical bastards? No offence, Teyla.” He shakes his head. “No, I snuck in a few things so my return wouldn’t be quite so jarring, but the greater knowledge is lost somewhere,” he waves his hand in the air, “up there.”

He waves his finger again. “But! What Anubis doesn’t know is that Earth? Is the Ancient’s original home world. Well, when they migrated to this galaxy at least. And their greatest city used to be here.” He looks around the table expectantly. “Atlantis,” he says, after it’s obvious no one is going to guess.

“The lost city of Atlantis?” Faxon sounds very disbelieving for a man who’s been held hostage by aliens. “And you found it on Earth?”

“Nope! In the Pegasus galaxy.” He’s beaming again.

“So, what, we’re supposed to go there?”

“Well,” he ducks his head, “I may have sort of broken the rules and, um,” he coughs, “sent the city back.” As we all stare, he tilts up his chin. “Not back here, I wasn’t that detached from my humanity! No, there’s an off-grid Ancient planet called Proclarush Taonas. Currently a bit volcanic, but the city’ll land there, recharge, and we can claim it and fly it back.” He pats Shep’s hand. “Well, Sheppard gets to fly it back.”

“Wait, I have to fly a city? How?”

“It’s easy.” He frowns. “I think. I know I had the memories of how but…well…” He waves his hand into the air again.

“And where were you planning on putting this city?”

“Back where it was. Antarctica.”

Carter blinks, but I get the reference immediately. “Where the second Stargate was?”

“Gold star for Lieutenant Colonel Lorne. About a hundred meters east is the original outpost the city rested on. The sub-light engines can vaporize the ice and allow us to re-dock the city as it was 10,000 years ago.”

Carter clears her throat. “That might be noticed. By the world.”

McKay shrugs. “Work around it.” The smile disappears from his face and he looks directly into Carter’s eyes. “They’re coming, Sam. Soon. Atlantis is a ship, with weapons and defense systems. We’ll need them if we hope to make it.”

I can see Sam actually evaluating McKay, his words and, perhaps, his soul. Finally, she nods. “How long until it arrives?”

“Well, it landed about a week ago, but it won’t have enough energy gathered to raise the shield and purify the air for another two days.”

She nods. “Major Davis, I’ll need your help coordinating with the President, the Pentagon, and the UN.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ambassador, please help him prepare packets of introduction for the countries we’ll be dealing with.”

Faxon nods, a slightly sour glint to his eye.

“Colonel,” she turns to me, “we’ll need you to secure the city.”

“Permission to bring SG-2, 3, and 14.”

“Granted.” She looks across the table. “The city’s empty, correct?”

“And the size of Manhattan. So once it arrives we’ll need a large explorer party.”

“I’ll arrange it. I’ll also send SG-8 to K’tau, to request some assistance from the Asgard.” Makes sense. The Asgard are the most advanced society we know. Well, other than the Tollan. After a quick glance around the table, she smiles at McKay. “Rodney, welcome home.”

He beams. “Glad to be back!” And then he’s out of his chair, shouting for Zelenka, Shep hot on his heels.

I just shake my head. The lost city of Atlantis. Figures McKay would return with a bang.

  


* * *

Forty-eight hours passes quickly, and almost in the blink of an eye it’s time to depart. McKay dials a planet not on the Abydos cartouche or from the list of planets uploaded by Shep when he had the knowledge of the Ancients put into his head. Still, the wormhole connects, and McKay marches boldly forward, eager to show off his find. Grabbing my night-vision goggles, I hurry after him.

The first step into the alien city reveals darkness beyond the ocean light from the wormhole behind me. A sweep of the weapon shows nothing other than the silent architecture. Consoles covered by beige fabric, doors open to black hallways, stairs with writing on them ascending to a command station. I almost expect dust and cobwebs, but there aren’t any. The place is quiet and pristine. Just off the manufacturing line, or maybe a toy never removed from its plastic wrapping. It’s a little creepy.

I hear the soft ripples behind me, catch glimpses of additional lights sweeping the room. “Looks pretty dead,” Mitchell says. The backlight from the wormhole causes his all-American looks to glow. He’s given up on the buzz-cut, spurned by Shep’s wild hair.

The dangerous half of his team is flanking him. Cadman is checking their six, making sure nothing nasty is going to jump out from behind the Stargate. “So did those ruins on Sartorus.”

“I’m not reading any false energy fields this time.” Hailey is huddled against Cadman’s back, checking her tablet. “I believe Colonel Mitchell’s assessment is correct.” The arrogance is still there, but like McKay has become tempered by experience and time.

“That’s a bad precedent to set,” McKay snaps, taking out his own tablet. I’d tell him to behave, but for McKay, that is behaving. “However, the planet’s off-grid and near no major Goa’uld systems. Unless something crept in while it was in hyperspace-“

“Don’t jinx it, McKay,” Shep says. He’s stepped ahead of me, aiming for the steps. “In a city the size of Manhattan...”

“Oh please. Once we have the sensors up and run—“

“Aw crap,” Shep’s voice cuts through McKay’s statement.

I immediately turn towards Shep and align my light beam with his. It’s pointed at the top of the stairs, where a grey-haired man wearing Earth fatigues is leaning against one of the covered consoles. The gold symbol on his forehead, one of two curved swords bracketing a gleaming oval, is hardly required to identify him, as the face is one of the most infamous of the SGC.

“Colonel Lorne, good to see you.” Jack O’Neill, legendary First Prime and the number one man on the SGC’s hit list, waves at us with a wide grin. “Welcome to Atlantis. See ya on the flip side.”

From the shadows around us the sounds of zats activating is heard. Damn McKay and his fate-tempting ways, I think as the blue energy field strikes my chest and I collapse.

  


* * *

Reality realigns itself with crystal clarity, and I gasp, blood rushing as I reach for a sidearm that’s not present. To my right, O’Neill watches me lazily. Beside him, working a console is Daniel Jackson, his shaggy hair hidden beneath a bandana. He, too, is dressed in BDUs, although there is a gold necklace with an intricate medallion resting on his chest. His smile is friendly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, blue and pale and utterly devoid of emotion.

The cold metal fingertips of the ribbon device caress my cheek, and I focus on the woman above me. She’s wearing a gold and ruby robe, one that does nothing to hide her cleavage or figure. Her eyes are green and bright, and her hair is just as red and shocking as it is in the surveillance videos. “Hathor,” I breathe out, half terrified.

“Hello beloved,” the feminine voice is harsh, promising agony behind painted lips. “We thank you for assisting us. Without you, we would not have our most hated rival, or Nirrti’s resources.”

“Or the city,” O’Neill adds. “Lovely city. Too bad the Asgard won’t be able to help.” He grins and knocks on the wall. “That shield? Impenetrable. Can’t beam through, can’t ring through, can’t land. Like you, we had to come through the Stargate.”

“How,” I squeak out. On my shoulder, I notice a gray rectangle with a plastic tube attached, feeding a neon green liquid into me. It’s probably what’s keeping me in a weakened state.

“Javabli, one of our Queen’s original worlds, is on the edge of the galaxy. They mine naquadah and construct starships, so they have a very sophisticated long-range sensor system to prevent other Goa’uld from surprising them. They detected a rather large subspace displacement entering their star system, and were able to track it to this world.”

“Taonas,” Hathor says. “Sadly, the city does not wake for us. But it does for you,” she holds her hand over my heart. “As well as your subordinate, John.” She lets out a sigh. “It is a pity none of you have responded well to the nish’ta. Even the Tollan resists.”

It’s coming back to me now, being thrown into ha’tak prison cells, them taking away Shep, Dex, Lou. A Jaffa that used to be General Hammond culling the women and moving them to different cells on another floor. Teyla resisting, getting shot, as Vala gets stabbed with a pain stick until her screams are raw and bloody.

“My team…”

“You shall see them soon, beloved.” She seems to glide away, a set of gold chainmail links trailing behind her. “Tell me, Colonel, which of Ra’s adversaries will win? Ba’al, or Anubis?”

I lick my lips, which feel dry and chapped as if I’ve been in the desert for days. “Anubis.” It’s apparently the wrong thing to say, judging by the way she frowns and glares at O’Neill. “Sorry.”

“As you have shown us, we will have the city on our side.” She reaches up and circles her nails around my forehead before ripping out a small piece of metal. My temple throbs and the world goes gray for a moment. “Return him to his team. Come, beloved,” she offers her hand to Jackson, who takes it regally and walks by her side.

O’Neill smirks, then snaps at two actual non-Earth origin Jaffa. One appears to be from Her’ur’s army, and the other from Apophis’. They’re quick to pull me off the examination table and drag me through the corridors. I can see that we’re not on a ha’tak, but in the alien city, Atlantis. The lights seem to be brightening as I’m dragged past them. Huh, I wonder what that’s about.

Another minute later and the walls change. We’re in a large room, where they’ve erected the holding cell. I’m tossed inside, still limp, but I can feel strength slowly returning to me. Whatever drug they used must not be very effective when not constantly administered. Rolling over, I take in the rest of my team.

Dex is in a corner, actual chains around his wrists. He’s glaring at the door and baring his teeth at the ex-SGC personnel guarding us. Lou’s curled up near him, flanked on the other side by Mitchell, who has a bruise to his temple and seems to be a bit shaky. When he sees me looking, he offers a wobbly smile. “Good high, eh?”

“Not funny,” McKay moans. I have to roll onto my shoulder to find him, huddled with Shep in a corner. Neither of them is in chains, but it looks like Shep put up some sort of resistance, as he’s cradling his wrist to his chest. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks,” I choke out, then do a mental count in my head. “Where’s Teal’c? And SG-3?”

“Most we can tell, wormhole got cut-off.”

“Or they hit a shield,” McKay says.

“McKay!”

McKay glares at Mitchell. “No use sugarcoating anything, Major. Either the wormhole disengaged or they went splat. We won’t know until…until later.” He sounds tired by the end of the sentence. Shep uses his other arm to stroke the side of his face. “Stop it,” he mutters. “She did that. It was creepy.”

“It was,” I concur, finally feeling strong enough to push myself up a bit. “Do we know where they’re holding the others?”

Dex grunts. “Five levels up, there’s a big room. They put another cell there.”

“Vala’s not doing so hot,” Mitchell adds. “Seems while she was Qetesh there was a bit of a love fight over Ra.”

“I heard,” I say, pulling myself to the far wall and leaning against it. “What about the others?”

“Teyla put up a fight,” Dex pipes in again. “Haven’t heard her scream. Don’t know about the others.”

“When she took over the SGC, Hathor had all the women locked away, far from the men. She’ll probably ship them off once she feels secure enough.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” I say. “So what’s the plan?” Mitchell lets out a laugh, but I catch a look pass between Shep and McKay. “You’re up to something.”

“Sort of. You know Teyla’s whole meditation mantras, focusing on one sutra or word to focus the self?” At my nod, Rodney nods back. “Do that. Keep thinking ‘Off, off, off.’”

“You think we can turn off something with our minds?”

He’s got a glint in his eye, the one I remember from when he tricked a Goa’uld into blowing up his own fleet in hyperspace. “I think if you concentrate, you will. I also think you should trust me.” He tilts up his chin. “I am, after all, a genius.”

It’s my turn to laugh, but I do as he commands. After all, how could McKay overlook something as important as Hathor and the missing SGC personnel while floating amongst the stars and making dire predictions? The question is, if O’Neill’s telling the truth about the strength of the shield, where exactly are we going to get reinforcements from?

But then, that’s not my concern. I just have to focus on Off. Off. Off…

  


* * *

After a few hours, I’ve regained enough strength to pull myself up and look out of the bars into the room we’re in. It’s dark, but I can see alcoves, each with a large manicotti-shaped ships. Obviously, this is some sort of hangar, which explains the reinforced doors and the reason there’s space to build a holding cell. Leaning against the hard mesh, I rest my forehead and glare into the darkness. McKay may have a plan, but other than thinking ‘off’ he hasn’t shared it.

Most likely because Hathor’s guards are standing not five feet away on all sides. Smarter than the average Goa’uld, or maybe that’s O’Neill’s doing.

Shutting my eyes, I let myself slide back down and turn so I can sit against the wall. O’Neill’s betrayal isn’t too surprising. He’s a Jaffa now, a First Prime. He relies on a prim’ta to survive. But Jackson, the brilliant man who opened the Stargate, who helped defeat Ra… I never thought it’d hurt so much to see him like that, twisted and broken by a Goa’uld’s sadistic attempts at love. I didn’t even know the man, but in my head, from the reports and Sam’s stories, I’ve built him up as something else, someone more innocent, standing up for ideals and doing the right thing.

He’s not wearing the flashy robes of a Goa’uld, so maybe he’s not all gone, but there’s nothing resisting Hathor’s whims now, nothing I can call on for sympathy or support. He may be beyond all help. They all may be. There hasn’t been one defector in all the time they’ve been gone. The question is if we’ll turn out like that, or if she’s even planning on turning us into loyal Jaffa.

“Looks hopeless, eh, Ev?”

I offer an empty smile. “You gonna tell me you’ve gotten outta worse, Lou?”

“Naw. You heard all my stories.”

I feel a shoulder brush against mine and open my eyes. Lou’s moved next to me, face bruised and swollen. His smile is a ghostly as my own, and he’s favoring his right side, even sitting down. “Should you be moving?” In answer, he nods across the cell. Dex’s begun pulling at his chains and Mitchell’s inspecting them, looking for weakness.

“The crazy couple’s making moves, too,” he adds, eyebrows dancing.

He’s right. In the corner, McKay’s whispering frantically, but his attempt at subtly is hindered by the ways his hands are moving, swift and determined. Shep’s fashioned a makeshift bandage by ripping up his shirt, but his eyes are sharp, nodding occasionally.

“Guess we’re all getting a little stir crazy.” I reach over and run my fingers over Lou’s torso.

“Buy a guy a drink first,” he tries to make it a joke, but the hiss of pain as I touch his ribs ruins it. “Damn.”

“Why the abuse?”

“O’Neill seemed to think the old ways of interrogation would be better than…whatever the hell they did to the rest of you.” I grimace. O’Neill and Ferretti used to be close. I wouldn’t put it past the snake to have twisted that camaraderie until O’Neill hated everything he used to be close to. “May have to leave me, when you go.”

“Bullshit. You know we don’t leave people behind.”

He grabs my shoulder and manages to glare while squinting. “This is bigger than me, Colonel. We need this city. Take it back. By any means.”

“Lou-“

“Colonel Lorne,” he grits out, “I order you to leave me if you break out. I’ll slow you down.”

I feel my back straighten at the use of my rank. “Sir-“

“Oh cut with the melodramatics,” McKay interrupts. “Colonel, we’ll find a place to hide you. Lorne, be useful and get Ronon unchained.” I glare at McKay, and he glares right back. “What? I have a plan, and it doesn’t involve me becoming a host or letting the Ancient’s greatest city fall in the hands of a sexually deviant Goa’uld!”

Lou actually lets out a bark of a laugh, but he wheezes immediately afterward, panting and clutching his midsection. I don’t like the way the blood has drained from his face, but McKay bustles over and shoves me away, muttering and taking off his jacket.

While I’m used to McKay’s dismissals, this time I’m a little hesitant. Lou’s my best friend at the SGC, and while I know he’s right, leaving him in someone else’s hands while I’m right here feels off.

“I get it,” Shep says beside me, voice low, “but right now, we need your strength to help Ronon. You and Mitchell are the only ones uninjured.” I eye McKay, and he coughs, “Well, uninjured with upper body strength.”

“I heard that.”

Shep bites back a grin, but McKay is concentrating on Lou, creating a make-shift binding by tearing strips off his jacket. It’s probably the best treatment he’s going to get, short of a healing device or sarcophagus, and none of us want to think about trading for favors right now.

Moving across the cell, and kneel across from Mitchell and look at the manacles and chains. The manacles are definitely naquadah, but the chain itself isn’t. It’s a little old fashioned, but a quick bite, ignoring Mitchell’s, “Gross,” confirms that it’s just gold-plated, probably iron. It’s already under strain from Dex’s strength. “Find any weak points?”

Mitchell continues to wrinkle his nose, but he shakes his head. “No. Best place to try would be the wall anchor or wrist connection, but without tools…”

“Don’t need ‘em,” Dex grunts, shifting his weight and straining against the restraints again.

“He’s right.” I grab the chain close to the wall anchor. I see Mitchell do the same with the other set of links. “The cell’s made of the same stuff as the chains. They’ll be weaker than the manacle connection.” Which is undoubtedly made of naquadah. “On my count. One, two, three-“

There’s a loud groan from all of us, enough that one of the Jaffa look in. The smirk he gives us makes me grit my teeth. “Two, three,” and we all attempt again. This time, the groan isn’t from us, but from the links in the wall. Some of the other guards have turned to us. I exchange a nod with Mitchell, “Three!” I hear Dex let out a very non-Tollan-like yell, and both Mitchell and I fall back as the links connected to the anchor snap, sending the chains in a whip-like motion that tosses the two of us to the floor.

I see a number of zats get pulled out and the cell door begins to open. Before I can get to my feet, McKay yells,” Sheppard, now!”

There’s a hum in the back of my mind, something that dislodges my thoughts of ‘off’ and then there’s light all around us, glaring and bright, blinding the room. I hear Mitchell yelp and drop down. I simply cross my arms in front of my face, lying on my back. I can hear Dex moving, though, and Shep’s boots on the floor.

It takes another minute for the sound of falling bodies to hit me, and as I lower my arms, letting my eyes adjust to the brightness. Shep’s got a zat and is shooting just outside the cage, catching the ex-SGC personnel before they can hit a control panel and call for help. Dex is using the chains as weapons themselves, lashing at the enemy even as he pummels another. I’d say it’s very well coordinated and brilliant, but I’m pretty sure other than the floodlights, this is all impromptu. Though Shep and Dex do spend a lot of downtime together. Makes sense they’d be in sync like this.

“Colonel,” McKay’s beside me now, holding up Lou’s limping form with an arm slung over his shoulders, “think ‘lights off’, now.”

I move to Lou’s other side to help support him. He lets out a grunt before going completely lax in our arms. McKay huffs, but I do as he says. The lights around us waiver, then dim, then finally fade away. I can see that they’re emanating from the manicotti-like vessels. “Shuttles?”

“Correct. Sadly, the cage blocks them in, and the weapon systems would’ve blown us up too.”

I just shake my head. “Good idea, McKay.”

“Tell Teyla, she’s always talking about how we have to show lost people to the light.”

“Don’t think she meant it like this.”

“Whatever. It worked, right?”

“For a few minutes.” Shep’s eyeing us, but Dex is by the door, armed with two zats. He’s ready for anything that comes in. “Can we lock that?”

“Yeah, I can. Mitchell-“

“Right here, McKay,” Mitchell says, already taking Lou’s weight off McKay’s shoulders. “Where should we put him?”

“In one of the ships,” McKay says, heading for the door. “You should be able to open them in the back. Once inside, only Lorne or John should be able to get him out.”

“Aren’t they airtight?” I start leading us to the nearest ship. It’s dark, but as we enter the alcove it gets brighter.

“Their life support systems should still be functional.” Rodney’s frowning at the door interface now, as if he’s trying to remember something. “Uh, John?”

“Right here, buddy.”

I ignore them as we maneuver around the ship. I place my hand on the side of it, and feel a pulse of warmth pass through me. Not like Hathor and the ribbon device. This connection is soothing, welcoming, like an old friend giving me a squeezing hug that sets off all my nerves happily. I don’t understand it, but I hear the whir of technology and when we get to the back, a ramp is down and the systems inside are powering up. “Right. The bench?”

Mitchell is grinning, looking around. “This is so cool.”

“Major…”

“Right, bench.” We make our way onto the ship and carefully lay Lou down. His breathing’s labored, and I don’t like the way his skin is turning cold. “Shit, man.” Mitchell runs a hand through his hair. “You mind if I stay with him?”

I’m about to say yes, I do mind, before I remember Mitchell was on Lou’s team, and he was more than just my mentor. I nod, retrieve a zat from one of the fallen Jaffa, and toss it to him before touching the ship again. The pulse is gone, but now there’s just a hum, a fuzzy feeling tingling through my palm as the door closes. Leaning against the wall of the alcove, I let out a slow breath.

I don’t care how much O’Neill means to Sam and everyone. If Lou dies, his ass is toast.

When I rejoin the group, McKay seems to be in a near panic. “What’s going on?”

Shep is brushing his shoulder against McKay’s, still holding his broken hand close to his chest. “Rodney can’t remember all the details behind the technology.”

I try not to gape. “McKay-“

“I know, I know! Look, I remember the command chair, and some of the power generating principles, but this,” he waves his hand over the open control panel, filled with lighted crystals that look nothing like the ones on Goa’uld vessels, “I don’t. I, I can’t!” His eyes are wide. “Oh my god, I can’t remember! I thought I put in workarounds! They took it from me!”

“Hey, hey! Snap out of it!” I punch McKay in the arm.

“Ow!” He steps behind Shep. “Yes, Colonel, physical violence will solve this!”

“As much as panicking will.”

“I was not-“

“You were,” Dex says, still crouching by the door.

McKay tilts his chin up and I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Look, just think McKay. If we weren’t captured, what would we need to do?”

“Like that’s going to help-“

“Rodney,” Shep says in a tone both fond an annoyed, “just answer the Colonel.”

“Fine!” He huffs and crosses his arms. “Fine,” he says again, less defensively. “The control room would tell us if the city’s back-up batteries have gathered enough energy to make the trip to Earth. Sheppard would have to go to the Command Chair to orchestrate our flight, and I’d be able to reduce the shield to just the tower so we’d have enough power for hyperspace travel.”

“Great.” I lean against the wall again. “Hathor said the city won’t work for them, but will for Shep and me.”

“That’s because the Ancients built a failsafe. Anyone with naquadah in their blood can’t activate any of their technology, and half of it won’t work for them once activated.”

“So why does it work for us?” Shep asks.

“You and the Colonel here,” he points at us, “both have a gene. It’s either a mutation or your ancestors really were visited by aliens of the freaky kind. There’s a geneticist at Area 51, Beckett, I have him looking into it. We’ll need people like you once we have the city on Earth.”

I try not to think about my ancestors and kinky aliens because it’s way more freaky than the thought that I can control alien technology with my mind because of a gene. A nice, mutated gene. No messy non-human fluids in my family tree, nosiree.

“The Ancients were a fucked up people, getting it on with apes,” Shep says.

“Why do you think I wanted out?”

I groan, this time at Shep’s description of it. “Look, all we have to do is take the control room, right? They’ve got to have an invader failsafe or quarantine program, right?”

McKay blinks twice, then snaps his fingers. “Yes, yes, that’ll work! Except,” he frowns, “except Sheppard and I need to be in the Command Chair room. I don’t know if I’ll be able to override any protocols until I’ve explored the system more.”

“And this command chair will let you?”

Now McKay’s squeezing his hands, “I…yes?” At my pointed look, he throws up his arms. “Look, I know John can fly the city from there! In my memory it’s a very, very important room! But the details,” he hesitates, “the details are fading.” He sounds a little broken at that. “Just, we need to be there, Lorne.”

“Right.” I push off from the wall. “Do you know where to go?”

“Not yet.” McKay stands a bit taller. “But it has to be in the central tower.”

“And the command room is that landing above the Stargate?” McKay nods. “Right. Dex, you’re with me.” He grunts. “McKay, you and Shep find Teyla and the others. Hopefully, you’ll get them out by the time we get to the Command Center and we can lead you to the chair room.”

“We should probably stick together,” Shep says uncomfortably. “What with the Jaffa.”

“Better if we split up,” Dex says. “Less likely for all of us to get caught in a trap.” Shep frowns, but tightens the grip on his zat and nods once.

“Right.” I yank the radio devices off the unconscious Jaffa and hand them out. “Maintain radio silence until absolutely necessary.”

“Makes me wish we still had our equipment,” McKay mutters.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” Shep says as he and Dex get in position to open the door. “Maybe we’ll find it when we rescue the women.”

The bay doors slide apart, and just outside are the unconscious bodies of ex-SGC men, and Teyla, looking winded but alright. She gives us all a brief, teeth-revealing smile. “That’s alright, John. We are quite capable of rescuing ourselves.”

  


* * *

It turns out Teyla and the others were being held in a room even larger than the hangar. Only non-Earth Jaffa were there to guard them, which meant there were only two in total, a vast underestimation on O’Neill’s part. Unfortunately, Vala had not been in the cell, and in fact had been receiving Hathor’s wrath from an enthusiastic Jaffa from Ba’al. Apparently, Qetesh had humiliated Ba’al in a number of fights, and Hathor was more than willing to let the man have his revenge.

There’s not a mark on her, unlike Lou, but her breathing is just as shallow. The pain sticks aren’t meant to be fatal, but I suppose prolonged and intense exposure might change that. We lay her on the other bench in the shuttle, Mitchell inviting Hailey to join him in guarding them. Since she has the most first-aid experience of us all, she’s quick to accept.

“I wish I could have brought our equipment,” Teyla says after we map out our goals. “I believe Daniel Jackson is studying Rodney’s computer, to discover if they can make the city function for them.”

“So they didn’t interrogate you,” Shep asks as he watches Cadman drag the unconscious Jaffa into the cell.

“Perhaps they would have in time,” she says, “but no. However, we did have windows where we were kept.” She looks over to Rodney. “This world would be toxic, beyond the shield.”

“Best geothermal source in the Milky Way,” he says unenthusiastically.

“Just before we left, I caught a glimpse of an unknown ship entering orbit above the city.”

“Fuck,” I mutter. At their look, I sigh. “We contacted the Asgard and Tollan, right? Teyla’d recognize an Asgard ship.”

“And the Tollan have no experience with Ancient technology,” McKay says quickly. “The shield. They won’t know how to breach it! And their sensors won’t be able to see what’s going on. They won’t know the Goa’uld have taken over!”

Dex, however, looks thoughtful. “It may not matter. If they’ve rebuilt a ship, they’ll have phasing technology.”

It’s not very reassuring, especially when McKay mutters, “Oh god, if Hathor gains phasing technology, we’re all-“

“Fucked,” Shep finishes.

“That will not happen,” Teyla says firmly. She looks Dex straight in the eye, something she hasn’t done since he’s come to Earth. “I can lead us back to the room we were kept in. We can observe the ship from there. Perhaps they will detect your health chip-”

“No, no, no,” McKay says. “No, you two,” he points to Teyla and Dex, “go with Lorne. If you can get control of the command center, you’ll have communications up and running.”

Dex tilts his head. “They might not detect the health chip in time,” he finally says. “Control room.”

Cadman grins and waves one of the four zats she’s holding. “I’ll go with Rod and the Flyboy.” Both McKay and Shep glare at her for that. “What?”

“You will need a translator,” Lindsey says to me. “I should go with you.”

I nod. “Thanks, Doctor.”

“Where do you want me?” Vega, unlike the others, has a staff weapon in her hand. I know she’s a better shot than most Jaffa, but I was hoping to cut down on casualties.

“Think you can watch our backs?”

The staff weapon powers up with her grin. “You betcha.”

I pick up a zat and toss it to her. She catches it, frowning, but slides it into her belt. “Right, we don’t know how long we’ve got before they notice we’re loose.”

“So let’s go,” McKay says, bouncing on his feet.

“One last thing.” I look them each in the eye. “If you see Hathor or any other snake? Shoot to kill.” There’s a lot of grim nods at that. “Alright teams, lets move out!”

We split as we exit, Shep and the others going left, the rest of us going right. McKay said the command center and Stargate were in the central tower. I’ll bet this bay isn’t far from it. Those shuttles are just the right size to fit through the Stargate, it’s too much of a coincidence.

It isn’t until we hit the main staircase that we’re spotted, at which point Dex unleashes a barrage of zat blasts that strikes most of the group before the rest of us get our weapons aimed. Unfortunately, one non-Earth Jaffa gets away, and a Goa’uld alarm horn echoes through the corridors. “Right, stealth’s out,” I mutter as we start jogging.

The Jaffa were coming from below, so that’s where we head. We hit a bit of resistance on the next level, and by the next floor the Jaffa have mobilized. Just beyond them, though, I see the edge of the Stargate. “This is it,” I shout.

Oddly enough, most of the Jaffa are using zats as well, perhaps on O’Neill’s orders. Or maybe Hathor doesn’t want her new city marred by energy burns. I also notice that the only ones using staff weapons are not the Jaffa from Earth. Vega’s quick to strike back at them, her training as a sniper obvious as each hit lands.

There’s at least thirty Jaffa there, and I can see behind them another group forming. “Damn,” I growl, then duck behind the corner and tap Dex on the shoulder. I jerk my head down the hall. There’s more than one way into that room. We need to find one and ambush the group waiting. Dex, thankfully, reads my mind, and we run quickly down the hall. It takes a few corners and far too many minutes, but we end up on the other side of the Gate room. There’s another thirty Jaffa, all lined up and waiting to open fire the instant we enter. Well, they’ve got another thing coming.

Dex and I charge in together, leveling blast upon blast on the unsuspecting Jaffa. There’s a cry of “Kree!” and they start to turn, only to get hit in the back as Teyla comes through the other entrance like an avenging angel. The Jaffa don’t stand a chance in the crossfire, although it’s Lindsey who saves my ass with a, “Colonel, get down!” and shots at the command station, where General—no, Jaffa George Hammond tries to take me out with a staff blast.

I twist to fire back only to see him take a staff blast straight in the chest. “No!” I’m on my feet and running up the stairs two at a time, still firing at Jaffa, some of whom are now retreating. When I reach the top, I see Hammond’s trembling, bleeding, but still awake. The blast hit him above the prim’ta pouch, but it’s still smoldering, and his breathing his heavy.

George Hammond, the man who used to run the SGC, bald and proud, with a kind smile that Sam said she missed the most from him. I kick the staff weapon away. “You gonna live?”

“We would die for our queen.” The Texan accent almost throws me, you don’t expect to hear that from a Jaffa.

“Great, but can that,” I wave at the pouch with my zat, “heal you?” His eyes narrow, and I see his hand jerk to his belt, curling around his own zat. I shoot him before he can pull it out, watching him fall unconscious and hoping the zat won’t prevent the parasite from healing him.

Vega comes up beside me, actually contrite. “I’m sorry, sir. I saw-“

“I know. Just,” I wave down to the pile of Jaffa by the stairs, “carefully put him with the rest.” I let out a breath. So far, casualties have been non-Earth only. Except for maybe Lou. I just don’t want to bring back anyone dead. They’ve been brainwashed, but they might still be cured.

Finally, I turn and look at the command center. The beige covers are off, but none of the consoles are responding to Lindsey as she moves around them. “I think McKay’s right. We need you to initialize everything.”

I nod and stand beside her at the largest console. After a minute, I touch it. “On,” I say, feeling a little foolish. It seems to do the trick, though, as the crystals light up and writing starts scrolling across the screen in the back of the room. “Cool.”

Her hand hovers over the crystals, finally touching one delicately. “Communication.” Her voice is soft, slightly uncertain. “I think.”

I move beside her, but it took me over a year to learn basic Goa’uld. This is completely beyond me. “We need to speak to the Tollan.”

I hear Dex’s heavy steps as he comes up the stairs and stands behind us. “Any luck?”

“Kind of.” I’m watching the doctor carefully, and finally, she touches the communication crystal, and one other. “That it?”

“I think so.”

I clear my throat. “This is Colonel Lorne to the Tollan vessel. Can you hear us?”

There’s a long silence, and then, _“Hello Colonel Lorne. It’s Narim. I don’t know if you remember me-“_

“Narim,” Dex interrupts. “The Goa’uld have infiltrated the city.”

There’s another moment of silence. _“We have a small security contingent, but we’re not sure the phasing technology will let us breach the shield. It’s more advanced than anything the Asgard have.”_

“Try.”

 _“Right.”_ Narim says something indistinct after that, possibly in Asgard. _“We have an Asgard aboard who used to work with an Ancient named Janus. He says he can help regain control of the city.”_

“Great,” I say. “Can he beam in?”

 _“Not until we’re through the shields.”_

Another voice comes on the line, sounding angry and smaller. _“Colonel, you are in the control room, correct?”_

“We are.” I hear Vega swear and fire a zat. “But we don’t know how long we can hold it. Is this the Asgard?”

 _“Hermiod,”_ he says to that. _“If you are at the main console, there should be a crystal glowing blue on the second tier of the third panel.”_

I look, but Dex spots it first and points to it. “Got it. Now what?”

 _“If you slide it to the right, and depress the crystal that becomes illuminated by green, it should activate the quarantine regulations, locking the city down.”_

Lindsey looks over the crystal and nods, though I can see the uncertainty in her eyes. “You’re sure, Hermiod? Also, we’re waiting until McKay and Shep get to the chair room.” There’s a series of Asgard sounds, the tone of which I would say means he’s swearing. I raise my eyebrows at Dex. He looks faintly amused.

 _“Colonel,”_ Narim’s voice comes through the speakers again, _“We’re passing through the shield in a minute. We’ll send you Hermiod once we’re through. Minister Dex, we’ll be using your health chip as a beacon.”_

“Understood,” Dex says, then moves away from the control panels, zats at the ready. Teyla and Vega have been taking random shots at Jaffa. I’m starting to worry we’ll be overrun.

“Should I activate the protocol?” Lindsey asks.

I sigh, then activate the Goa’uld radio. “Lorne to Shep. Status.”

 _“Lorne?!”_ It’s McKay that answers, followed by a lot of firing sounds. _“Thank god! If you’re in the control center activate the isolation system now!”_

“You’re in the chair-“

 _“Now! The Jaffa have us pinned and I don’t—Damnit, John’s down!”_

I point at Lindsey. “Do it!”

She immediately activates the sequence. There’s a loud chime, almost gong-like, and then all the doors, previously thin and turned sideways, rotate and shut. I wince at the alarm and look out the window in time to see the Tollan ship, partially phased through the shield, actually shudder as the energy around it turns red and the shield reforms at its bow to attempt to eject it. Just as the lights go off, there’s a flash of vertical streaks beside Dex.

“Thank you for almost killing us,” the Asgard, Hermiod, says, its void-like eyes seeming to glare at me as the gong-alarm resounds once more, then goes silent. “Fortunately, I was able to transport in before the phasing technology was disrupted.” He walks over to the command station, completely ignoring Dex and the others. “Now let’s see how much damage you Tau’ri have dealt the city.”

I let out a long sigh and follow the short alien. It just figures we’d get stuck with the Rodney McKay of the Asgard.

It takes almost twenty minutes for Hermiod to shrink the shields, leaving one arm of the city unprotected long enough for the Tollan ship to land and encompass them in the shield reformation. Dex seems to be swinging from relaxed to on edge at the communication that Tollan security are phasing through the sealed doors to help round up the Jaffa.

“There should be holding cells here,” Hermiod points to the screen. “Once my equipment is set up I will begin transporting the prisoners there.”

“What do you mean, once your equipment is set up,” I ask.

Hermiod blinks slowly at me, and contacts the Tollan. “Narim, turn the red crystal seventy degrees. The system will use my life sign as an indicator.”

 _“Understood. Please stand by.”_

Hermiod walks past the Ancient control panels and into the windowed room beside it, probably the commander’s office in Atlantis’ previous existence. A moment later, the familiar ringing of Asgard teleportation is heard and a series of squat panels with concave-shaped tops is set around the room. The window overlooking the Stargate is blocked by a massive black and silver screen, and Hermiod adjusts one of the oval-like crystals, initiating a hum of power in the room.

“What is this?”

“Atlantis was one of the Ancient’s most advanced technological constructs. I will need to interface my own systems with its core computer in order to fully comprehend its capabilities.”

I rub a hand over my face. Not great, but it’s probably safer this way. “Lindsey, give Hermiod whatever help you can.”

“I do not require help.” I can feel its narrow gaze on me.

“Just do it, doctor.” I head over to the window and sigh. “Lorne to McKay. Status.”

 _“It’s about time!”_ There’s some grumbling, and then, _“We have the chair room under control. Cadman was able to keep the Jaffa out. Oh, and we’ve come across a Tok’ra operative. Raully. She’s currently healing Sheppard.”_

I feel myself tense up. “You’re sure she’s a Tok’ra?” Hathor seems to inspire—or at least, demand—total loyalty.

 _“As sure as we can with C4 strapped to her chest.”_

“What?!”

 _“It was Cadman’s idea! And she didn’t have to reveal that she had a healing device! And without her we wouldn’t have made it to the room in the first place-“_

“Right,” I breathe out my nose slowly, “right. I’ll have the Tollan bring her to the shuttle room once the Jaffa have been put in cells.”

 _“Excellent. I’ve been checking on the power readouts, and while we definitely have full shielding, we may need some more time to fully maximize the batteries for hyperspace.”_

“Great. Argue about it with the Asgard.”

 _“Asgard?”_

Not five minutes later I can hear McKay and Hermiod swearing at each other, and can’t help but let out a small laugh. Leaning my forehead against my arm, I decide to take in the view for a moment.

It’s not like any Ancient structure we’ve seen before, which is typically made of stone and larger than life, like the pyramids or statues from Easter island. This is more like a cross between the Asgard ships and Tollana, advanced, sleek, but just a touch shy of neo-modernism so as not to be an eyesore. From the window I can see two branches of the city, stretching out over brown and black mountains, the molten rivers flowing around and even under, without actually touching the structure.

The Tollan ship is settled on one of the far landings. Unlike their cities, it’s not sleek, but probably is efficient. From the side it looks almost like a perfect trapezoid, the front slope obviously the bridge, and the overhang in the rear housing engine pods of some sort. It’s tinged blue and red from the shield and fires raging outside, but beneath it is the same marble ivory traditional in all Tollan architecture. There’s a few whorls of grey and black, the only indication of external instrumentation and windows.

It’s definitely larger than the Stargate, and another chuckle is pulled from my throat as I picture the square-shaped ship trying to fly through the circular wormhole. I have to choke on that, a minute later, when I remember the shuttles, and how reminiscent in design the Tollan vessel is to those. Slanted sterns, minimal external design…

I’ll leave that observation in my report for the anthropologists to figure out. That’s a philosophical quandary that may lead to madness, and my life’s crazy enough as it is.

“Colonel Lorne,” Captain Vega says, hovering just beyond that personal boundary line but obviously wanting to cross it. “Hermiod wants to see you.”

I push off against the wall and nod, heading back to the command center. I touch some of the unlit panels as I walk by, waking even more systems. There’s a triangular panel on the lowest tier of the command center, facing the Stargate. It’s easy enough to see it’s the dialing device. None of the constellations are familiar to me, and I wonder if the Ancients have a swap-out panel of sorts to handle intergalactic dialing.

“Colonel,” Hermiod turns to me as he adjusts another of his crystal controls. I can hear McKay’s voice quietly in the background, and the screen is displaying the city, along with almost two hundred dots on it. “It appears that the original docking platform beneath the tower is functional.” The screen rotates and zooms beneath the city, to a hemisphere surrounded by molten streams. There are two blue dots, and one bright yellow one.

“Do we know who’s down there?”

“Negative.” Hermiod walks over to the screen and points at the yellow dot. “However, this is indicating the primary power source of the facility is intact and charged at almost eighty percent capacity. The corresponding power sources within the city are at less than five.” He turns and blinks at me. “If you can extract that power source, we can integrate it into the city, allowing us to engage the stardrive system without detracting from the power systems of the rest of the city.”

I nod. Sounds good to me. “Can you transport us down there?”

“I can. However, the shield of the facility is currently down, and the magma dome is currently unstable.”

“Right.” I heft my zat and nod to Vega. “We’ll be careful taking out those two Jaffa.”

“You misunderstand. By my estimation the pressure of maintaining an atmosphere within the dome against the pressure of the lava will cause critical collapse within ten minutes.”

“Nothing like a timer to get the blood flowing.” I get into a defensive position. “Just be sure to beam us out at nine-minutes thirty seconds if you don’t hear from us.” There’s some muttering in Asgard, which has Lindsey looking offended. I don’t even want to know. “Alright, send us in.”

  


* * *

There’s a moment of complete disorientation, of being in two places at once, and then we’re in a completely different locale, one that has me choking on my next breath. The life support system may be functioning, but barely. The air is thick with ash and heat. There’s an antechamber in front of us, from which I can make out the backside of one Daniel Jackson, looking over the controls. We’re in a room with a dais and chair, standing right by where the power source is supposed to be.

Vega lifts her staff weapon. “Step away from the control panel, Jackson!”

Jackson spins around, surprised, but a staff blast from around the corner has me and Vega diving for cover. I move behind the chair. She dives to the left, which I now see has a DHD, still functional, and a Stargate behind it, almost embedded into the magma dome.

“Really, Captain? Ever heard of the element of surprise?” O’Neill’s voice travels from the antechamber. “Who’ve you got with you? Mitchell? No.” There’s a grin in his voice. “Lorne! The good Colonel wouldn’t pass up a fight like this.”

“There’s no fight,” I yell, trying to get any sort of shot with the zat. Unfortunately, Jackson has taken cover, and all I can see is the tip of the staff weapon, which is sadly non-conductive. “All the Jaffa have been captured, and we’re retaking the city. Surrender.”

“Really? I mean, there’s a Stargate right here.”

“And rings,” Jackson adds.

“Yes, and rings. So, you know, surrender’s not really part of our plans at the moment.” He punctuates that by blasting the ground less than an inch from the DHD.

I gauge the angle the two of them have, and carefully place my hand to the floor, the white sections glowing blue beneath the black spider-web lattice. Power source, I think. Give me the power source. There’s a pulse, this one sending my nerves shivering as sadness seems to pervade me, and then the lights go dark.

“What’re you doing there, Colonel.”

“Just turning everything off. You know this place will be destroyed in eight minutes, right?” I cough again, and pull my shirt up a bit to cover my nose and mouth. “This can’t be healthy for you two.” The corners of the hexagonal dais has circles, and the one where I stood moments before pops off before an orange and red glowing crystal rises from beneath.

“We’ll be going in a bit. We’ll take that too, whatever it is.”

“Afraid we can’t let you,” I say. “We need it for the city. And you’re not exactly in a position to try and claim anything.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

There’s a moment when the world slows, and from the corner of my eye I see gold and red waiver into existence behind Vega. I open my mouth to yell and shift my aim, only to get caught in the wake as Hathor uses her ribbon device to blast the staff weapon out of Vega’s hand. I struggle to get up, and am able to just in time to see Hathor’s eyes glow and the hand device turn red, locking onto Vega’s forehead with deadly intensity.

I bring my hand up and fire, only for the zat energy to dissipate upon a golden column. A personal shield. A staff blast comes my way, but misses by an inch, letting me know I’m pinned down. “Vega!” There’s no taunting, no slow torments. Hathor’s eyes are glowing, full and bright, letting all know the mercilessness of an angry goddess.

“You will suffer her fate, Tau’ri.” Her glare turns to me as Vega starts convulsing, blood spewing from her spasming jaw. “You will fall here. And know, that when I return to your world, my judgment will be as swift,” she slams her palm into the Captain’s head, making her fall back, limp and still, “and as brutal.”

“Can’t win ‘em all, Colonel.” Another staff blast, this one knocking the staff Vega was carrying right into me. I fall back again, clutching it, mind racing. Nothing I have will penetrate a personal shield. I can’t move, the dome will collapse in five minutes-

The dome. Beneath multiple magma flows.

“You’re right, O’Neill,” I shout, “you can’t win them all!” I activate the staff weapon. Hathor gives me a cruel grin. “Sucks to be you!” Pulling the staff upward, I blast the top of the dome five, six, seven times before there’s a roar of fire and lava pours from the roof directly onto the Goa’uld’s head. She lets out an inhuman scream as the liquid passes right through the shield, sluicing the left half of her body away before she falls into the full downpour. “Just call me Dorothy,” I mutter.

“NO!” The cry is from Jackson, pained and heart-wrenching, as he runs from the antechamber to the pool of molten rock now spreading across the room. I’m not sure how to save him when O’Neill drops his weapon and grabs Jackson just short of the liquid blaze.

“Daniel, no!”

“No! Nonono! My queen! Release me!” He’s struggling against O’Neill, who’s looking determined and proud. I remember all those First Primes, ready to die for their Gods.

“Not today,” I mutter and launch myself across the dais, snagging the power source and rolling away from the expanding fire lake as I slap at my radio. “Hermiod! Get all life signs to the Gate room now!”

There’s that dual existence moment again, where I swear I can see Vega’s body consumed by the lava, before we’re on the cool tiled floor of Atlantis. There’s a pregnant pause at our appearance, but we’re surrounded by Dex, Teyla, and two Tollan, all of which have weapons on O’Neill in less than a heartbeat.

O’Neill, glancing around, lets his shoulders drop and releases Jackson to raise his hands. “Ding dong, eh, Lorne?” There’s no humor in his voice, just challenge, and a little resignation.

“Take him to his own cell.” I look at Daniel Jackson, the man who opened the Stargate, the voice of ideals on SG-1. He’s kneeling, staring at the Gate with tears running down his face. And in the midst of that devastation, he has a smile. It’s small and barely visible, but definitely a sign of elation. I turn to Teyla. “Him too, separate cell.” I keep my eye on him as she leads him out, and can’t help but wonder at just how broken that man is. And at how many others down below are just as bad.

  


* * *

I end up in the conference room on the other side of the stairs from the command center, unlocked thanks to Hermiod deactivating the lockdown system. It’s a triangular table, with no clear head chair, or even if all sides are symbolic of something. Not that it matters, as I just collapse into the first chair behind the doors and say, “Could you close for a few minutes?” They respond, which is both cool and a bit freaky.

Once alone, I take a deep breath and rest my head in my hands. I wish I could have Hermiod beam Vega’s body back, charred bones and cooked flesh, because even the smallest amount of DNA would mean a sarcophagus could heal her. Hathor’s a Goa’uld, she has to have one lying about somewhere. But I know it’s impossible, that delicate sensors or not, that room is covered molten rock and at those temperatures everything’s melted down to base components.

As I’m scrubbing a hand through my hair, a faint, “Colonel?” floats into the room. I sit up abruptly at the strange voice. The room is still sealed, so I silently ask the room to open, to look at the voice intruding on my thoughts. It’s an unknown woman, with red hair, no where near as bright as Hathor’s, and skin almost as pale as McKay’s. She’s wearing a simple white jumpsuit and I notice the large amber jewel in her palm. A healing device. “Raully, I presume.”

She doesn’t smile, just moves to take a seat on one of the other three sides. “I heard about Captain Vega. I am sorry.”

“Sacrifices of the job,” I say dutifully, then brush the pain of her death aside for a moment. “What can I do for you?”

She bows her head, and her voice takes on a masculine echo. “We thank you, for terminating Hathor. She would have become a great threat, perhaps greater than Anubis, using the influence of her former husband.”

The picture of flesh melting off the bone even as it’s cooked flickers before me. Picturesque, if you’re into horror. One glimpse of work I won’t be bringing to life on a canvas. “I didn’t do it for your war.”

The echo fades. “We know. Korra did not mean any offence.” I nod tiredly. “I wanted to let you know, about your friends.” She holds up the healing device nervously. “I’m sorry to say that Qetesh-“

“Vala,” escapes from me quietly.

“Vala,” she continues, “suffered prolonged exposure to the pain staffs. We were able to repair the burnt tissue. However,” she squeezes the jewel tightly, “however, the energy needed to complete the repairs would have drained us…me.”

I feel my stomach do a slow barrel roll. “What’s the final analysis for her?”

“As I said, I have healed the burns, but the after-effects of extended electrical currents applied throughout a Tau’ri’s body…” She ducks her head, and it’s Korra who continues. “Her nervous system is beginning to depolarize. The damage is too severe for us to heal. A sarcophagus would repair all damage, but any further attempts to heal would drain us, with no guarantee of effective repair.”

That sounds like a pretty terrible way to go, and exactly a method of execution Hathor would approve of. I shut my eyes and brace myself. “And Colonel Ferretti?”

“The Colonel,” Korra continues to speak in Raully’s stead, “had internal bleeding, caused by damage to his ribs. A cursory scan only revealed the surface abrasions.” She leans forward as I suck in a sharp breath. “He insisted I attempt to heal Vala first, as she was beginning to have convulsions. By the time I realized we would be unable to save her, one of his lungs had flooded and his heart had ceased functioning.”

I feel myself shiver, trying to process the shock of losing Lou. On autopilot, I say, “Thank you. For your attempt.”

She bows her head again, and it’s Raully who speaks. “Once we return to Earth, I will debrief your SGC on Hathor’s movements of the last six months. Unfortunately, I could not infiltrate her followers sooner than that.”

“That’ll be enough for us.” Enough to tell us if all of our people are here, or if there are still some out there. Enough to know what sort of fleet is abandoned, waiting for the next Goa’uld to claim it. Enough to tell us if the sacrifice of the people here was worth it all. “Hermiod’s found you a place to rest?”

“There are quarters a few levels below where you were being held. Hermiod has restored life support and rudimentary function to them. He’s also initialized the internal transporter system.”

Transporters, right. I wonder if they would have made a difference, if they had been active Lou would be here, chatting me up, instead of lying dead in some alien shuttle. Shaking my head at the useless conjecture, I offer the woman a grimace of a smile. “You should recuperate from the healing attempts.” She doesn’t answer, just gets up and walks for the doors. As she passes, she squeezes my arm.

“You have done well, Tau’ri,” Korra says. “This may be the weapon needed to destroy the Goa’uld.”

I don’t answer as she leaves, just take a deep breath and continue to stare at the wall for a minute. Lou, Vega, Mal Doran. Three casualties. Three colleagues dead.

I stand up. There’s one more thing I need to know before we go home. I spot Narim as I step out of the conference room and have him explain the transporters to me. He’s more than happy to, since it means he gets a break from McKay and Hermiod. He finishes with, “I believe Major Sheppard will be able to fly the city back to Earth shortly. They are running a few final energy simulations.”

“Thanks, Narim.” Reminding myself I’m still a representative of Earth, I add, “Will you and the Tollan be joining us?”

“While your race is quite young, we do owe you a debt,” he says this with just a hint of reluctance. “We may be able to repay it by assisting you in exploring the limits of the city.”

The Joint Chiefs are just going to love sharing possibly the most advanced city in the galaxy with aliens. “We’ll talk it over when we get back,” I say, clapping his arm. “Meanwhile, why don’t you fill in Ex-Minister Dex about your new home world.”

“Yes,” there’s that reluctance again, “perhaps that would be wise.”

I offer him a wan smile until the transporter doors close, and I feel all traces of mirth vanish from my face. I send myself to the power room, where I can hear McKay’s voice echoing despite being a good fifty feet away.

I’m a couple steps from the door when he bounds out of the power room, crooked grin bright and open. “Colonel! We should be all set!” He shuts the door behind him and types into his tablet computer. “The Ancients liked to power their city via zero point energy, and it looks like, if we can find two more of those modules, the shield may be able to encompass an entire planet! Not for long periods of time, of course, but even a few minutes-“

“McKay.” My voice is subdued, even to my ears.

He waves his hand. “Right, right, home. We’ve got the geothermal substations all charged up, so we’ll have a bit of a reserve once we get back to Earth. And Hermiod, foul-mouth that he is, is telling John how to access the intergalactic drive to cut down on our time.”

“McKay,” I try again, this time a little louder.

He continues as if he didn’t hear me. “I argued against it, cause it’ll deplete the module by an extra two percent, but you know Asgard. They always know-“

“Rodney!” This time I grab him by the arm and swing him into an alcove, trapping him between me and the wall. My voice also bounces around us from yelling too loud. Before I can think about it, I reach up and yank the radio out of my ear, and then the one out of his. I don’t want anyone else hearing this.

“Okay, Lorne, you’re kind of-“

“Did you know,” I say, feeling my heart speed up, my lungs working harder as my breathing increases. “Did you know,” I continue, squeezing his arm, “that we’d run into Hathor and O’Neill and the others? Did you plan this?!” I snarl the last bit, crowding him in a way I haven’t done since that first terrible meeting.

McKay’s grown as a person, yet apparently as his CO I can still intimidate him. He curls in on himself, but tilts his chin up, refusing to break eye contact. “As I’ve explained already, I don’t fully remember everything that transpired while I was ascended. And while I did place mental notes for myself in regards to the city, the likelihood of events transpiring-“

“You’re a genius, McKay! You tell us that every damn chance that you get! You thought of Anubis, you thought of Ba’al, you said something terrible would happen to Earth so you set. This. Up! Now did you know they would be here, yes or no?” He remains silent, and I slam my fist against the wall. “Answer me!”

He flinches and goes quiet, finally breaking eye contact. The computer is being held in front of his chest like a shield, and the hand not holding it is squeezing his wrist, tightly. I can feel a throb in my fingers down to the bone, and I may have broken the radios I’m holding, but I don’t move, don’t say a thing. He knows I can out-wait him. He knows I need an answer.

I need to know if he deliberately let us walk into a Goa’uld trap, put all our lives at risk in some calculated maneuver.

I need to hear him say he didn’t evaluate the odds of our fatalities like some snake.

Finally, finally, there’s a broken sigh. “I wish I could remember.”

I feel my hand clench around his arm. “If that was a fucking confession-“

“No! No.” He has his eyes squeezed shut. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.” He takes a shuddering breath. “I remember us needing to get to the city. I remember knowing that in the near future, without it, Earth may fall to Ba’al or Anubis. And I know I looked for them, I wouldn’t have ignored it. But I can’t,” he brings his head up, eyes wide and blue and afraid, “I swear I don’t…there was no plan. Not for this.” He looks back down. “I wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t risk your own neck,” I can’t help but snap.

“I wouldn’t put John in that danger. Or Cadman. Or even Ferretti, the asshole. And definitely not my own team. Not Teyla and not, not you, Evan.”

The arm clutching him is shaking, so I throw it off and take a step back, using it to run through my hair and pull it as I pace. McKay doesn’t move, just stands there, shoulders hunched and gaze downcast. After a few turns on the floor, I step up to him again. “You have to understand, Mc—Rodney.” Using his first name might make it easier to help me diffuse my anger. “I’ve lost three people. And maybe an entire team, if O’Neill let them hit an iris of some sort. So I have to know—fuck—I need to know if you had any foreknowledge, any great scheme you didn’t share about O’Neill being here.”

He crosses his arms across the tablet now, hugging it tight. He does bring his head up to meet my eyes again. “I was as surprised as you, Lorne. This city was supposed to be abandoned. If I,” he chokes, “if I’d had any plans about retrieving the lost personnel it’s, it’s still locked away. Somewhere,” he waves a hand up to his head, then quickly brings it back to his chest, “in there. I know it seems like I had all angles figured out but-“

I let out a long sigh through my nose. “But you honestly didn’t mean to encounter and subdue them here.” He shakes his head, relaxing as the heat leaves my voice. I step back, giving him some breathing room. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Rodney. It’s just…you’re a genius.”

“I had everything planned out,” he says scowling, not looking down, but not looking at me, either. “I get it. You really thought I was some Machiavellian mastermind-“

“You were the one who got Colonel Simmons fired. And convinced a Goa’uld to destroy his own troops. And got Mitchell and Teal’c together.”

“Yes, okay, fine, my track record speaks for itself. But I never,” he pokes me in the chest, “I would never put anyone at risk. I wouldn’t play with lives like that.” The scowl shifts into a wobble. “I wouldn’t play with any of our lives like that.”

Sighing again, I move so I can lean against the wall beside him. “I get it, Rodney. I…I had to make sure.”

“I haven’t changed that much.” Then, in a worried tone. “I haven’t, right?”

“That’s really more of a question for Shep than for me.”

“Jerk.” We stand there for a few minutes in silence. “I think you did actually bruise me this time, asshole.”

“I could kiss it better, or I could order the Major to do so for me.”

“Ha hah.” He pokes at his arm, winces, then sticks his palm out. It takes me a moment to register what he wants, and I drop a radio into his hand. It’s bent, but McKay straightens it easily enough. Before he puts it on, he says, “I get it, you know. We’ve been non-stop almost thirty hours. After they’d invaded our minds.” He snorts. “Someone had to snap.”

“I’m sorry I dragged you into it.”

“Maybe I deserved it,” he’s frowning. “Maybe I did plan it and can’t remember. They took as much as they could when I descended. Who’s to say this isn’t Their version of revenge.”

“I thought the Ancients didn’t manipulate lower planes.”

“They’re a petty, hypocritical people with draconian laws and feudalistic penalties.” The frown is in full force. “Apparently some things they couldn’t get rid of no matter how they tried.”

“At least you outsmarted them.” I push off from the wall and put my own radio on. Before reactivating it, I say, uncomfortably, “It’s probably a bad time, but we’re cool?”

He snorts again. “Sheppard’s cool. I’m fine. And we’re,” he waves between us, “we’ll be all right.” He shrugs, offering me a sly grin. “We usually are, after all.”

“Too true, McKay.” And it is true. McKay and I have hit rough patches before, usually with Shep or Teyla around to play mediator. He’ll forgive me going a little nuts today, just like I’ll forgive him when he accidentally blows up a solar system. Again.

  


* * *

Straightening my tac vest, I activate my radio. Time to rejoin reality. Rolling my eyes at the sound of Hermiod arguing with Shep, Narim, and Mitchell, I raise my voice and say, “Are we ready to leave this hellhole, yet?”

 _“Just waiting for Rodney,”_ Shep says first. _“He wants to monitor the readings in-flight.”_

I glance at McKay, and he nods, already heading for the transporter. “Right. He’s on his way. Mitchell, is everyone secure for the trip?”

 _“Yes, sir. I’ve left the Colonel secure in the shuttle. I’ve, uh, brought Vala to the Gate room, so we can monitor her condition.”_ There’s worry in his voice, and not a little bit of anger. _“Laura and Teyla are conducting a final sweep of the security cells. The little gray man says they’ll remain secure during flight, but they want to make sure.”_

 _“Just doing our duty,”_ Cadman chimes in. _“Besides, I haven’t had this many offers for sex since-“_

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” I say swiftly, remembering Fraiser’s comment about the libidinous effect of Hathor’s drugs. “Try not to accept any offers.”

 _“No sweat. I could have Rodney as my wingman and do better.”_

 _“You don’t even want to know what I’ll do to your water heater, Cadman-“_

 _”McKay,”_ Shep drawls, _“I’d like to leave this chair by the end of the day. I’m getting a cramp.”_

By now, I’m in the command center and the snickering I hear isn’t just over the radio.

 _“Very mature,”_ is McKay’s response. _“Alright, the stardrive is powering up. We’ll be lifting off in four minutes.”_

 _Doctor Lindsey is sitting by the dialing console, holding onto one of our bags. Raully had brought them from wherever Hathor had stored them, after dropping McKay off in the chair room. It isn’t until I’m sitting on the other side of the dialing device that I see the nametag is for Vega. I offer her a nod, and she nods back. To my knowledge the Captain and Lindsey were just friends, but unless there’s trouble I do try to stay out of inter-team relationships._

 _ _“Liftoff in two minutes,”_ McKay calls out. _

I settle in and turn the seat around. Narim and Hermiod are both in the glass office. Narim is looking over what appears to be power differentials. Hermiod is muttering to himself in Asgard, shifting crystal ovals around and squinting at screens.

 _“One minute. Just a reminder, this will be a rough, but short, trip.”_

Dex comes up behind me and leans against the large console, across crossed. He has a rectangular block of technology on his wrist, a phase shifting device. He catches me looking and grins. “Gift from home. Says I don’t have to give it back if I decide to stay.”

“Are you going to stay?”

He raises a pointed eyebrow. “Someone has to keep Mitchell from making an ass of himself.”

My oh-so witty remark is cut off by, _“Liftoff in five…four…three…two…engage.”_ There’s a rumble, the entire city shaking, and then the sound of rocks crumbling and a roar as we fight the planet’s gravity and shoot up, up, up. Looking out the tinted window behind the Stargate, the blue-tint of the shield remains, but the orange-red of fire and lava fade to black until we’re beyond the surface, beyond the pull of the planet, and then we’re floating above it, flying by a moon as we pick up thrust. _“Engaging hyperspace jump in two…one…”_

I was hoping to see the hyperspace window we opened, a ship this size must create a fairly spectacular mar against a field of stars, but it opens beyond the view of the window, and instead the stars vanish for a solid stream of white and blue. To my right, Hermiod sighs. “Please release control of the eastern power grid, Major Sheppard. I cannot accurately adjust the engine harmonics while you have them in lockdown.”

 _“Easy for you to say,”_ Shep’s voice sounds strained. _“There’s nothing I can’t fly, but I’m not exactly sure what I’m in control of other than navigation.”_

More swearing. I’m going to have to get Carter to lend me her Asgard-to-English translator. He’s the surliest Asgard I’ve ever met, and I’ve heard more of their language now than I have after five years of being in the program.

 _“Alright, we’re approaching Sol. We’ll be exiting hyperspace in two minutes.”_

I lean back in my chair. “That was fast, McKay.”

 _“Intergalactic speeds. Just to make sure we get there before anyone else.”_

“Considering the Asgard can move between galaxies in hours, it’s not unexpected,” Lieutenant Hailey says as she returns with a Tollan security guard. Her hair is flat and she’s favoring her right side, but when the Tollan came on board, she was the first to volunteer to join them hunting down Jaffa in the city. Of course, that also earned her a trip to see the Tollan vessel, and they’ve been there since. “I can’t wait to tell Captain Vega.”

Doctor Lindsey actually curls up at the eagerness in Hailey’s voice, and I sigh, before she shakes her head and stands up, finally letting go of Vega’s bag. “Lieutenant.” The young officer’s attention is immediately off me. “While you were away…”

If Lindsey needs to be the one to say it, I’ll let her. It may be my duty to report it, but obviously the anthropologist had a closer relationship and she either wants—or more likely—needs to actually say the words out loud. I’ll be exactly the same way telling Sam about Lou. He’s been in the sarcophagus more than anyone else in the program, which means this time goodbye is really…goodbye.

I rub my chest at the ache that thought evokes. Later, Evan, I tell myself. You can break down about it after you get everyone home.

Rodney’s voice brings me back to reality. _“Entering normal space in two…one…mark.”_

There’s a bright flash in all the windows, and when I look out, I see space, and a satellite, but no moon, no planet. “McKay, where are we?”

 _“In orbit over the South pole. I’m having Sheppard bring us into geosynchronous alignment with the—huh. Hermiod, are you detecting a homing beacon?”_

“I am, Doctor McKay.” I get up and cross the balcony to view the Asgard’s main screen. About twenty miles east and ten miles into the ice—if I’m reading the Asgard numerals correctly—is a homing beacon. “It appears to be another outpost, like the one on Proculas Taonas.”

 _“Perfect! Major, move the city into a synchronous position and-“_

“I am receiving a transmission,” Hermiod interrupts. “It is from the SGC.”

I step in and cross my arms. “Put it through,” I tell him, looking at the screen meaningfully. No visual comes up, but Carter’s voice reverberates through the room.

 _“This is Colonel Carter of Stargate Command to unidentified ship-“_

“It’s us, Sam,” I say.

 _“Lorne? Fantastic. Have you got the Asgard with you?”_

I tilt my head and nod, before I remember she can’t see me. “Yeah, Hermiod.”

 _“Great. Have him beam the Stargate into space asap!” >_

 _At that my arms drop. “Colonel-“_

 _ _“Anubis is making another show of power to win support, like he did with the Tok’ra.”_ I take a step back at the near-panic in her voice. _“Before SG-3 and Teal’c could step through, the wormhole was disengaged, and an incoming wormhole was established. It’s been active since you left.”__

I check the date on my watch. “Four days? But I thought-“

 _“It’s over-riding the failsafe, and causing a power buildup. If we don’t get this thing off-planet now, there won’t be much of one left to defend.”_

“Shit. Hermiod, get a lock-“

“I already am-“

 _“Hold on,”_ McKay says quickly.

“We don’t exactly have time, Rodn-“

 _“Yes, yes, but Atlantis has an over-ride function. That’s why we stepped through into the Gateroom, instead of the outpost on Taonas. I’m accessing—ah hah! Sam, how long until the Gate reaches overload?”_

 _“Less than two minutes. And McKay, we can’t risk-“_

 _“Yes, yes, have Hermiod beam it into space, but I think I can make this backfire on Anubis.”_

 _“You think?”_

“Hermiod.” I nod my head. “Transport the Gate now.” He shuffles some crystals around, his eyes go narrow, and I feel my gut clench as he starts swearing again. “Hermiod…”

“The energy buildup in the Gate is disrupting my capability to establish a stable lock.” That’s definitely annoyance in his tone. Annoyance and frustration, something I’ve never heard from an Asgard before. “I am unable to complete even an area transport.”

“Damn. Carter, did you-“

 _“I heard. McKay? Forty-six seconds.”_

 _“Yeah, yeah. Hold on. I want to…crosslink command line…Sheppard, does the city—yes, perfect, I hate your genes.”_

“Twenty seconds,” I say, counting down silently with the computer.

 _“I’ve got to time it just right. Ten….seven…and…initiating override!”_

I can actually feel the energy coursing through the walls around me, and the lights on the Stargate all shine, aquamarine and bright, followed by a rumble, and then a loud ‘shunk’ sound I typically associate with a locked chevron. I wait about ten seconds, then, “Colonel Carter?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, then comes the loudest exhalation of relief I’ve ever heard. _“We’re fine. Carter to McKay, whatever the hell you did, great job.”_

 _“Couldn’t have done it without the city,”_ he says proudly. _“And I wouldn’t worry about him trying that again. Most of the power buildup actually discharged back along the wormhole. Whatever planet that weapon was on is toast.”_

I let out a chuckle, hear a cheer over the radio from Earth. “Permission to land the city, sir.”

 _“Permission granted. The UN Security Council will be meeting shortly to decide if the city violates the Arms Treaty, but Diplomat Faxon will be requesting an exemption for planetary security.”_

“Terrific.” I run my hand through my hair, sighing softly. “We also have a number of prisoners to transport to Dulce Base for containment.”

 _“Prisoners? Were there Ancients on board?”_

“Negative. The city was infiltrated by about one-hundred eighty Jaffa.” I hear her suck in a breath. “And Hathor.”

There’s dead silence on the other end of the communication. _“Once that city’s landed, I want you and McKay on base for debriefing immediately.”_

“Understood. We’ll contact you after touchdown. Atlantis out.” I hear the line shut off and Hermiod turns to look at me. I feel my spine straighten under that narrow, black gaze. “What,” I snap.

“I am not a transporter service,” he says with all the muster and authority of a full Asgard commander.

I blink once, twice, and then I can’t help the hysterical laugh that escapes me. As I fall against the window, letting the absurdity and stress flood out of my system, I wonder just how the hell one placates a pissed Asgard.

When I arrive naked in Stargate Command, in front of Carter and the Joint Chiefs, I figure I have my answer.

  


* * *

It takes a month for everything to finally settle down. The ex-SGC personnel are at Dulce Base, New Mexico, locked under a mesa as they try to deprogram them from Hathor’s spell. Even dead, the pheromone compound holds control over their loyalties. No one’s even sure if they’re salvageable.

O’Neill and Jackson definitely aren’t. They’re placed in high security, on the same level as Nirrti. As one of Hathor’s sworn rivals, O’Neill’s already almost killed her. He’s kept in chains now, laconic and relaxed, but I’ve seen the way he eyes the guards, eyes the cells, even eyes his meals. He’s constantly thinking of ways to escape, and I’m terrified of what’ll happen when he does.

The only thing keeping him in check, it seems, is Jackson. The man was catatonic the first two weeks, and then he started laughing and sobbing at the same time. It’s worse when he’s silent, because then he’s tearing up everything in the room, until it’s all rubble, and he sits in the middle of it, staring at nothing. Considering his history, the hatred of the Goa’uld followed by four years of enforced Stockholm syndrome and breeding new snakes… I’m pretty sure he’s lost off the deep end, forever.

Sam still has hope. So does Janet. They still think their friend, the brilliant man who opened the Stargate and spoke of building relations with worlds and discovering living history on other planets, is still in there, somewhere. Teal’c’s in their camp, stating that Daniel is a scholar with a warrior’s soul, and he will win the spiritual battle. Rothman, the guy who’s known Jackson the longest, just shares a beer with me, and talks about the man who traded a candy bar for his wife and helped incite the greatest rebellion in the galaxy. And when he tells me these stories, in his tone I can hear that he’s talking about a dead man.

It’s not quite the happy ending everyone was hoping for when we finally rescued those personnel.

Faxon, dragging McKay, Carter, and myself to a secret UN meeting, hammers out a treaty and creates an International Oversight Committee to contribute to the functioning, exploration, and funding of Atlantis. An exception is made for the weapons platform in the name of planetary security, along with the creation of the position of Secretary of Planetary Security. The General Carter’s been reporting to in DC, one General Hank Landry, is offered the job. His assigned advisor, a Mister Richard Woolsey, is a bit dull, but his conscience seems to be in the right place. He can also stand his ground against the military-industrial complex, which I think means he’s the perfect man for the job.

Teal’c and Teyla leave Earth for a while, and come back with a new alliance of rogue Jaffa, the Athosians who left Kheb long ago. The Sodan are willing to help Teal’c incite rebellion amongst the Goa’uld, and a full Jaffa team is formed to coordinate the effort. Raully joins them as well, a link to the Tok’ra and another ally in the fight. Teyla, after communing with her people, has returned with her betrothed, a man named Kanan. According to Janet, they should be expecting a newborn in about ten months.

We don’t get back to Earth in time to save Vala, and I was right about Area 51 still withholding sarcophagus rights, especially for the case of an ex-host. Vala wakes up once, calling for someone named Adria, before her brain ceases sending electrical impulses. I’ve never seen anything like it, and Carter has all known pain sticks at Area 51 locked away, reclassifying them under the same threat level as staff weapons.

SG-13 all feel the loss, especially Cadman, who even stops teasing McKay for a time. Mitchell spends a lot of time moping, and once Teal’c returns, even more time in the man’s quarters. Apparently, he hadn’t accepted the Major’s offer to live off-base. I finally take the man out and get him utterly smashed, followed by a night of weeping and a very unwise blowjob. I don’t expect it to fix him, and it doesn’t, but he finally starts pulling together, getting Hailey and Cadman ready for their next mission. With a little nudge from me, he invites Doctor Lindsey to the team, and she accepts.

I deliver Captain Vega’s belongings and flag to her family alongside Carter. I tell them she died in the line of duty, protecting the country and American ideals. Sam gets the truth out of me later, without any alcohol. It’s not hard. Watching her die…she didn’t have to. Hathor could’ve struck either of us, and I just happened to be the one she went after last. And then I bury her body under molten rock, preventing any chance of reviving her. From that, it’s a short jump to Lou, to our final time together, and how much, just how much he meant to me, to us, and what I’ll do if I ever get O’Neill in a room alone without cameras. Never before have I had the intense desire to eviscerate someone, and I’m pretty sure, if it were any other Jaffa, I’d be able to get away with it, too.

“It just,” I trail off at the end of my rant, “it just feels so pointless. His death. Hers. All of ‘em.”

Sam, because she’s lost people to Goa’uld as well, makes sure I’m done venting before saying, “It’s never pointless. It’s a shitty feeling, but not pointless.”

“I just…”

“I know,” she says softly. “Feeling helpless about it all, right?” I scowl and point at her. “They’re good at that.” She has her own scowl as her voice takes on an edge. “It’s good you killed her for them. And you know what? I would’ve loved to see the bitch’s face when she finally kicked it.”

“Wasn’t much to see after it melted off.” She doesn’t laugh, just nods sagely. We do get a bit drunk after that, and end up crashing right there around her dining room table. The next morning, she flies to Washington to confirm General Landry’s set-up, and I get transported back to Atlantis.

Atlantis. The beautiful city of steel and gold and glass is docked directly over the outpost we detected in Antarctica, off the radar with its Gate locked down so nothing can get in or out. There was some discussion about how to handle Atlantis. Officially, it fell under the jurisdiction of the SGC, but with the new international support, they couldn’t decide if it should be headed by a member of the US military. Carter outmaneuvers Faxon this time, pointing out that a Gate veteran would be the best choice to oversee the exploration of an alien city and its technology. When Faxon suggests a civilian advisor for that military leader, the IOA jump on it, and Elizabeth Weir, a woman who can negotiate away centuries old blood feuds, is recommended, and accepts readily.

SG-7 is decommissioned as a Gate team and remains in the city. Shep is the ideal genetic specimen to handle the technology, and McKay may not remember his time as an Ancient, but the city’s innards are becoming almost intuitive to him. Teyla volunteers to head up the archive department, decoding, deciphering, and classifying the database. It allows her to explore the city and the history of the Ancients, and have time to be with her expectant family.

Dex, with his familiarity of advanced technology and muscle, decides to transfer to the exploration team. It also has a bonus of keeping him close to the Tollan party remaining behind to help repair and research the city. Among the contingent is a Tollan doctor named Melena, and I’ve noticed they’re spending a lot of time together. Melena is also consulting with Doctor Carson Beckett, who we brought in from Area 51. Using Shep’s DNA, they’re trying to create an artificial gene so others can use the Ancient technology. McKay’s at the top of the list of recipients.

SG-7 makes up the main exploration team, containing two department heads, and answers directly to the IOA representative and the military commander of the city.

I say SG-7, because I’m no longer a part of them. I’m still in Atlantis, though. Right now, I’m on the balcony behind the Gateroom, looking out over the city to the white expanse beyond. The snow is falling lightly and the shield is currently off, the city’s life support system creating artificial heat pockets in all outdoor areas. My arms are leaning on the banister, and I’m fiddling with a silver bird pin in my fingers.

I’m no longer a member of a Gate team. A week after I put Lou in the ground and brought home his flag, there was a small promotion ceremony. There was cheering and accolades and one highly inappropriate grope when it was announced that I’d be getting a promotion to full bird Colonel. This was followed by a command decision to remove me as head of SG-7.

To be reassigned as the military commander of Atlantis.

I’m still grinning about that, even as the door to my left opens and Major Davis walks out, holding a laptop computer and a thick briefcase undoubtedly full of paperwork I need to complete. He’s wearing the current Atlantis uniform, which consists of standard BDUs and a black and gray pull-over fleece with a makeshift patch insignia. It’s currently the standard SGC half-Stargate, half-chevron patch, but with the letters ATL at the apex, rather than SGC.

There’s an unofficial contest in the city to see who can create the best official insignia patch for city personnel. I’ve got half a sketch done in my not-so-spacious quarters, deviating from the traditional circle. Right now it’s just a Pegasus in flight, because that’s the galaxy the city was originally hiding in. I’m thinking of just having the city name on its wings, or maybe resting above them. Sort of an inverted triangle shape—ah! I know! It’ll be flying over a chevron.

Not that anyone outside of the SGC or Atlantis will ever see it.

“Lost in thought, Colonel?” Davis says, interrupting the artist in me.

I push away from the balcony and smirk, reaching up to pin the bird back on the collar of the fleece. He wrinkles his nose at that, but then, he’s still wearing a dress shirt beneath his sweater. The rest of us are a little less formal, especially since Atlantis keeps the place sustainable with just a bite of frost in the air. Of course, the best face he made was when he saw McKay wearing bright orange. Apparently, it brought him luck through grad school and Shep, for some reason, finds it enticing.

And yes, I know way too much about my team. “Just enjoying the view. More paperwork, I’m guessing?”

He holds up the briefcase. “Last few files before I begin my next audit at Area 51. They’re hoping to adapt the engine systems of Atlantis to the _Prometheus_. I’ll need your signature to bring in an engineering crew.”

“To take apart our only method of launching from the surface to face down a Goa’uld fleet? Let me think on that.” He’s not the kind of man to roll his eyes, but I can tell he wants to. I stroll through the other balcony door and turn on my heel. “How’s the research, Hermiod?”

After Atlantis landed and I became the base commander, the Asgard and I had a very long talk where he swore at me for five minutes straight and I threatened to lock him in a room with Major Sheppard. Apparently, Shep had stared at the alien to the point where he was uncomfortable in his little gray skin. They still give each other disturbing looks, but Shep doesn’t look like he’s going to run full throttle the other direction anymore.

Once he was out of the office, he set up his station right in front of the balcony window alcove. It’s actually just the right size to hold his screens and control consoles without impeding traffic too much. It has the added benefit of being ten feet away from Atlantis’ command center in case of urgent issues. He’s there now, half the screen scanning through the Atlantis database, and the other half running scans of the immediate area.

“Unfortunately, it appears all access to their nanotechnology has the highest encryption. We may require access to an Ancient repository in order to determine if they have a method of damaging the Replicators.”

“I’ll see if Teyla can find a lab that worked on it, too. There might be a clue in whatever was left behind.”

He blinks slowly at me. “I have already submitted that request.” He looks down to adjust his crystal arrangement.

“Of course.”

“I have also confirmed that there is a zero point power source module in the outpost below. The ice is impeding our efforts to gain access, and the Tollan are unable to phase through that length of solid matter.”

Major Davis, stepping up beside me, offers Hermiod his diplomat’s smile. Neutral, promising, and up to no good. “Area 51 has an energy drill currently in storage. I could have it sent along with the team of engineers to study the engines.”

“That would be most useful,” Hermiod says and Davis turns that damned smile on me. “However, the stardrive is currently discharging excess energy within its power matrix and is unavailable to study.” Davis freezes in place and I bite back a laugh. “In addition, it would be unwise to attempt to integrate Ancient technological functions with a Goa’uld adapted power system.”

He looks up from his crystals and blinks at a still stunned Davis. “I will, however, review the current design schematics and assist your engineers in determining how inefficient their attempt at engine design has been.”

Taking two steps backward while the Major tries to gracefully accept Hermiod’s compromise, I turn and wave to Miko and Doctor Peter Grodin, our current Command Support staff.

Miko was sent once again as a replacement, this time for Zelenka. McKay ranted about it, calling Carter to demand a reason why his first choice wasn’t shipped down immediately. There was some talk about all eggheads in one alien outpost and that they needed someone brilliant back at the SGC full-time. Peter Grodin is apparently a friend of both Carter and an old rival of McKay’s. He’s an expert at interfacing alien technology with our own systems, though, and what he’s managed to accomplish in just a couple weeks has impressed even the Tollan.

“Tried to outsmart the Asgard, huh?” Peter asks in his British accent.

“Not his brightest move,” I say, sharing a grin with the man. In addition to his work in the Command Center, he’s also been essential in helping direct supplies and assigning quarters for the crew. I’d love to have him as my assistant, but he’s a civilian, and Davis would have a fit. Still, I’m already composing a memo to send to Weir. I think the two of them would work great together. “How’re things going here?”

Miko pushes her glasses up her nose and bobs her head shyly. “The Stargate Address archive has identified eighty-three previously unknown Stargate address. I believe a proper correlative update would allow the city to access all currently active Stargates in our galaxy.”

“Great! Carter’ll love that. Write up a proposal.” She nods quickly, sitting down to begin typing the request immediately. I wouldn’t be surprised if the proposal is in my inbox by this evening, if not sooner. “Got the sensors running?” I say to Grodin.

“Yes, sir.” He depresses some crystals and the holographic screen projects a map of our galaxy, complete with hundreds of little triangles. “With the information gained from the Tok’ra, we’ve been able to identify almost all ha’tak owners.” There are a number of squares projected on the map as well, and I raise my eyebrow. “Goa’uld or alien vessels, unidentified, sir.”

I study the projection, witnessing a half-dozen battles. Ba’al and the System Lords appear to be an even match for Anubis. If they ever teamed up, we’d be royally fucked. I point to the far corner of the galaxy, away from Earth. “What’re those?”

“Lord Yu’s forces. It appears he’s withdrawn from most major encounters. If they continue to lose ships, he may become a dominant force.” He glances down to a laptop. “The Tok’ra are trying to determine if he has any plans, but with their current resources…”

“I know, I know.” Still, it would be awesome for us if he did end up winning. Yu’s the most decent Goa’uld in existence, if you could call narcissistic power-hungry megalomaniacs decent. Another cluster of ha’tak catch my eye. “What’s this build-up here?”

“We believe that’s what’s left of Hathor’s fleet.” His tone goes flat. “Unfortunately, Anubis took control of that set of ships almost a week ago. Since then,” he types something and a line projecting a course directly to Earth appears, “they’ve been travelling. At each stop, a few more ships join in.”

“So McKay was right. We’ll need this city.” I was really hoping that wouldn’t be the case, but Anubis has been gaining allies by actions as well as weapons. His slaughter of the Tok’ra convinced half the System Lords to join him. If he succeeds in taking out the Tau’ri, the greatest threat to the Goa’uld since the Asgard…

“President Hayes needs to be informed,” Davis says, appearing next to me suddenly.

“He’s not through with his debriefing of the program,” Grodin objects.

“Doesn’t matter. How fast could those ships get here?”

Grodin looks to his computer, but I’ve flown a ha’tak, and that’s only about a dozen star systems between their position and Earth. “At full speed, they could be here by Sunday. Sooner, if Anubis tweaked the engines.”

Now Davis frowns, and pulls out a satellite phone. “I need to consult with the SGC and Doctor Weir. Is she available?”

It’s Miko who answers. “Elizabeth has gone to work out a formal treaty with the Tollan for sharing some of their technology.” She lets out a pleased sigh. “I am hoping to get to dissect a phasing device.”

“I’ll wish her luck,” Grodin says. “Her schedule says that meeting is due to end in the next ten minutes.”

“I’ll catch her then,” Davis replies, pushing the briefcase into my chest so I’m forced to grab it. “Review, sign, return.” He turns and starts heading across the way to the conference room.

“I outrank you,” I call out, and he waves it off. I hear Grodin chuckle. “Something funny, doc?”

“No, sir. Not a thing.” He takes his seat again and turns back to the laptops.

I take one last look at the projected galaxy, let out a long breath, and head into my office. Right now it’s just a desk, a chair, and filing cabinet, but I’ve got a requisition form half-finished to help finish giving it character. I’m still not sure I can get away with a couch, but on the other hand, I have saved the world a couple times.

I settle in and open the pop-locks on the briefcase. The first file is about additional personnel assignments the SGC would like to see implemented. They want a Sergeant Bates as head of security. He’ll have to take that up with Dex, I think. The ex-Minister may have an opinion on that. They’re recommending a Colonel Sumner as military specialist, which I’m so redirecting to Area 51. One Colonel on a base establishing itself is enough. There’s a note from Mitchell that a Sergeant Stackhouse is the best logistician he knows and would I be interested in a man who needs a break from years in a war zone. I sign off on that one immediately.

It seems Mitchell’s following Lou’s beliefs in giving men a chance. I’m glad to see I won’t be the only one taking on that mantle.

Before I can move to the next set of names, a sandy-haired, bright eyed man wearing a Canadian flag patch on his arm sticks his head in the door. “Colonel Lorne?” He waits until I look at him. “Colonel Carter’s on the line about Sergeant Markham on SG-9. Apparently, he has the ATA gene and got his head stuck in one of those Repositories and she wants him transported down here ASAP. Should I have Hermiod transport him?”

I lean back in my chair and take in the stranger. He’s lithe, with almost elfin ears and, I have to admit, a nice dimple. Nope, I definitely have no idea who this man is. “And you would be?”

He steps fully into my office and spreads his arms. “Sergeant Chuck Kenmore, Canadian armed forces.” He clasps his hands behind his back. “I was assigned by the IOA as your aide-de-camp.” He nods to the folders. “I’m in there somewhere.”

“Really.” He smiles at the skepticism, and I have to admit, it’s a little contagious. “And they chose a Canadian why?”

“We’re always polite and efficient.”

I snort. “Have you met McKay?”

He lets out a short burst of a laugh. “Yup! But he’s the exception.”

I cross my arms. “So, why you?”

“Officially? I have a terrific track record. That, and I’m the only officer currently enlisted that can read and speak Ancient. Also,” he pats the wall, “the gene.”

“And unofficially?”

“I’m to seduce you and clear the way for our fierce Mounties to arrive and finally execute our plan of world domination.”

Letting my shoulders touch the wall, I feel that pulse of electric life flow through me. Feisty. I like feisty. So does the city, apparently. “Sergeant…”

He shrugs at my chiding. “It’s mainly the gene that got me here, and I’m a neutral party. High enough position to catch their attention, but menial enough work that no one wants to waste political influence.”

That, unfortunately, sounds about right with some of the IOA ambassadors. I should talk with Weir about that, make sure we’re not saddled with too many politically-placed personnel.

“Now, sir,” he waves to the door, “should I have Hermiod transport Sergeant Stackhouse, or let the Colonel know we’ll be a few more minutes.”

Standing up, I head towards him and glance out the window. The projection of the galaxy is still there, and I can just make out the Replicator research Hermiod is trying to unlock. Putting an arm around the Canadian’s shoulders, I lead us towards the command consoles. “Come on, Chuck,” I say. “Let’s see just how much we can turn Stackhouse’s accident to our advantage.”

Yes sir, I have a feeling that this is turning into what will be known as a typical day in Atlantis.

**Author's Note:**

> My apologies for the delay in posting, there was a family emergency. Many, many thanks to my three betas: lavvyan, clockstopper, and never_says_die. Also major thanks to chubbypup for her great artwork complimenting this bit of fiction. This was an experiment in voice for me, and I'm really glad Lorne was willing to let me tell his story. I hope you enjoy!


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